What Defines A Monster
by hatchlingpendragon
Summary: How much can a line be blurred until it is erased? Or broken? How long would it take for one to realize that there had been a line in the first place? Why don't we find out... Rated for violence and potential adult situations. Rating may be subject to change.
1. Prologue

_Jonathan waits while she drinks, hearing the sips and slurps and gulps of swallowed liquid as she slowly, steadily drains the carton. He doesn't even flinch any more when he hears that last rasping sound of sucking air, as she shamelessly tips up the carton labeled 'Blood Beaters' to get at that very last drop._

_Mavis breathes slowly when she's done, absently licking the redness from her lips, thanking him quietly._

_She doesn't dispose of the carton, though, but instead __hands it to him, and he takes it, looking it over. __The glue had long faded from its opening. That plastic laminate of its surface was holding, though it was slightly wearing down and softening at the corners and edges.___

Much later, when she's asleep, he gently bends the creases so it once more looks unopened.

_Another detail: one can still read that the carton is clearly labeled 'Blood Beaters'._

_They both know, though, that they'd officially run out of Blood Beaters four weeks ago...  
_

* * *

_. . .  
_

* * *

_**Author's note: **_Inspired by Sondardo's 'Devotion'. This story will be completely unrelated to my other Hotel Transylvania story. Please enjoy.

Sincerely, the hatchling

And yes, I did pull a preview on you. You know who you are, haha!


	2. First Strike

He wasn't really sure how he'd expected things to go.

He wasn't sure _how_ he thought the whole thing would've just blown over or something but...

Alright, he'd gotten the alerts on his cell phone, he'd heard the news on the radio stations, he'd answered Mavis' questions without really thinking about the thing that caused her curiosity, her concern, he'd heard the chatter when they passed through towns. Swedish wasn't his first language, but he knew 'war' when he heard it, he just...

War had always been something that happened _away_ from home, in some other place or funny alternate dimension that could only touch the soldiers, the people who were willing to fight it...

Or at least that's what he'd thought, what he'd hoped.

But War had other ideas, he guessed.

They were in-between towns when the first attacks hit, and had made it to one in time to see the aftermath. It wasn't too bad, all things considered, but it was harsh. Of course, the war wasn't officially announced to be started until a few days after. That town had been considered a 'collateral'. He and Mavis had helped with volunteer clean-up for a time, and despite the circumstances he'd managed to convince himself _again _that things were okay. He'd help with some construction work on the night shifts, play some music for the crowds, and Mavis would delve into the culture right up to her elbows.

But it wasn't enough to be cool with the world, they'd both realized. The people liked them, yeah, but Johnny was still an American, and Mavis was still...Mavis... One guy, after a work night, had come up to quietly explain the situation, and he was real cool about it. It was sad, but Jonathan could respect it.

He and Mavis had packed up and left that evening.

He'd changed plans, changed the route so they could go to an airport, and cut the trip short, maybe trek it to the U.S. Embassy if they had to.

They could make it to Stockholm within the week.

They wouldn't make it, though.

They were on one of the trails when a patrol had caught up with them. They looked too heavily armed to be park troopers.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

_"J-Johnny, what's going on? What are they saying?"_

_"It's okay, Mavis, it'll be okay, uh... /Hello, I'm sorry if we are trespassing, we just need to get to Stock―/"_

_"/Get down on the ground! Remove your backpacks and get down on the ground! NOW!/"_

_"/N-n-no wait, man, I have a passport, I have a passport, here, look, I―/ NNGH!"_

_"DON'T HURT HIM!"  
_

_"NO, no, Mavis, don't do anything, this is...this is okay... Alright? They just...want to search our backpacks, just-just stay with me, hands on our heads..."  
_

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

_". . . You're bleeding, Johnny..."_

_"Head wounds bleed a lot, Mavis, it's alright, this is no big deal... Actually, hey, get this, one time I ran into this―"_

_"/Be quiet, you two./"_

_"/Yes, sir. Sorry. She's just scared.../ . . . Mavis? Mavey, hey, it's going to be alright, I'm okay..."_

_"They **hurt **you..."_

_"They just thought I was... Well... I guess they're scared, too..."  
_

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

_"/He is American./"_

_"/And the girl is a vampire. Romanian./"_

_"/A **what**? I had thought that monster thing was just some hoax./"_

_"/Maybe it's just make-up, sir?/"_

_"/No, it says it on her documentation, here, look. Watermarks and all./"_

_"/. . . Well, damn. Explains why they're out at this hour./"_

_"/I don't see anything suspicious in here. Heh, except for the laundry. Maybe we could just record that we saw them and let them go? They're just kids.../"_

_"/The first bombs were 'kids', too. And with a **vampire**, who knows what tricks are involved? And the man mentioned Stockholm. No risks./"_

_"/. . . Yes, sir./"_

* * *

**. . .  
**

* * *

A-a-and that was how they got arrested and jailed under suspicion of concealed weapons of mass destruction and terroristic intent. Awesome.

* * *

**. . .  
**

* * *

Johnny waited, tapping out a beat on the metal table.

He glanced at the mirror on the far wall, and saw nothing more than a tired-looking young man who could really use a shave and a shower. And maybe some Advil for the headache. And maybe a change to that gauze bandage on his temple. He knew that wasn't all that was there though, in that mirror. He was tempted to wave at the invisible people behind the mirror, show he was cool, but he really wasn't, and he thought that maybe waving _wasn't_ the best thing he could do for himself at the moment. Something must've been wrong with the overhead lights. There was a faint buzzing... He listened, trying to see if the sound matched the flicker...

"Do you understand why you're here?"

He blinked, looked at the man who sat across from him. The guy was dressed in a suit, but he looked pretty casual with it. He actually looked kind of plain. The man smiled, and he spoke with the barest accent, "Don't worry. I'm not the one you have an appointment with. I'm just the, ah, the preliminary..."

Jonathan nodded, and reached across to shake the man's hand.

"Hey..." he began, sitting back, "I'm Johnny. The girl who was with me, her name's Mavis. Um, where did you put her?"

The man shook his head, "I don't know where they put her. My business is with _you_ for now, Johnny. Please, focus. Do you _understand_ why you're _here_?"

"I..." Johnny frowned over his headache, and he sighed, "There've been...attacks on civilian places, some of the bigger municipalities. Some of the suspect parties were...American... I don't know how big it is, but I guess it's just us being in the wrong place in the wrong time?" he looked up at the man, "I don't mean any trouble, alright? Me and Mavis, we're just...we're just backpacking... We can be on a plane out of here by tomorrow, heck, we'll _walk_ out if you want us...to..." Jonathan trailed off. The man was shaking his head again, slowly.

"It's not going to be that simple, Johnny." the man told him. "You really don't understand yet. But that's alright, we have plenty of time to work it out. You're going to need some things, though. I can give you some things to help you out, here," he handed Johnny a sticky note, winking, "You'll need it for _her_ at least. Things will be getting pretty loud soon. Good luck, Johnny."

Jonathan squinted at the paper, but only found a list of addresses, and another with a few phone numbers... He'd find a directory later.

"Thanks, man. But hey, what do you mean by―" he looked up, but found he was alone again, ". . . Loud...?" he mumbled. Then he shrugged.

The guy was probably on a schedule. He pocketed the slip of paper, and settled in to wait again.

When they got out, he was going to take Mavis to get some coffee. They could really use some coffee.

He didn't have to wait long. He smiled sympathetically as a more tired-looking guy came in through the door, nodding to Johnny. It was in the a.m. after all.

That's when the smile froze on Johnny's face, as the four facts that had nagged at the back of his mind clicked while the new guy sat down.

One: Unlike this guy, Sandberg, the 'preliminary' guy hadn't had a name tag.

Two: He didn't remember the 'preliminary' guy using the door, either going in or out.

Three: He hadn't seen the guy's reflection while he'd looked in the mirror.

Four: Johnny couldn't for the life of him recall _anything_ specific about preliminary dude's face...

"/Good morning./" the new guy spoke up, getting back Johnny's attention, "/You speak Swedish?/"

"/S-some, yes./" Jonathan replied, smiling nervously, still kind of freaked out.

"It is alright, I know some English," the man replied wearily, in a heavier accent than preliminary dude. "Do you know why you're here?"

Jonathan stared for a moment, before Sandberg managed to smile, "It is alright," he repeated, "I only mean to help."

Johnny nodded, still uneasy, before asking, "Um, my friend, who was with me, where is she? She doesn't know Swedish..."

"She's alright. We have translators. I am sorry that things have happened this way. But do you know why you're here, sir?"

Honestly, Johnny wasn't so sure at this point. But he settled in, and talked with the man, thinking.

He could still feel that note, though, shifting in his pocket, and the crinkle of paper was strangely noisy, like a potato chip bag... At least to Johnny.

Sandberg didn't seem to hear it...

* * *

**. . .  
**

* * *

More paperwork had to go through, more background checks, and Johnny still didn't know where Mavis was... If things went well, he could get a phone call.

He would...he would call Mavis's dad, yeah, that was their best bet. At least let Drac know that they were okay...

They'd put him in a small detention cell. He entertained himself with the graffiti he couldn't read, but otherwise this thing was pretty comfortable. At least he didn't have anyone in this _with _him this time, like that time he'd went with the guys to... Gah, he promised himself he wouldn't remind himself of that time! He honestly hadn't thought silly string was that flammable! Then again, the guy who had it said he'd had it 'homemade'. Aaargh, stop _thinking_ about it! The Silly String Incident is _behind _you!

He laid back to stare at the ceiling, thinking. Well, anyway, it'd be cool if he had Mavis with him at any rate...

"Hi, Johnny!"

He fell off the bench with a short yelp and a heavy _thud_.

. . . He did not know it was possible to feel overjoyed, close to a heart attack, and in extreme pain at the same time.

"Ow-w-w..."

"Oh, geez, sorry!" he heard her say quickly, "You okay?"

". . . Hey, Mavis. . . M'awesome." he groaned, sitting up.

He couldn't help a grin when she landed in a crouch in front of him, already carefully inspecting the bandage.

Then he blinked. Mavis was in the cell. With him. He glanced around. The cell was still locked. But he saw a security guard woman standing out there and staring.

". . . Not that seeing you isn't completely _fantastic_," he said carefully, watching warily, "But, uh, how'd you get in here?"

"Mist powers, remember?" she muttered, gently prodding until he winced, and she quickly pulled back.

"No, no, I mean _how _and _why_? And―_euh_?" he gestured vaguely to the freakily blank-faced guard.

"Oh," she grinned, sitting back, "Well, the people here are really nice and all, I even met this cool lady back in my room. We couldn't really understand each other, but she had beautiful tattoos on her arms and she didn't freak out at my teeth. She even dressed like me! Anyway, they were nice, but I missed you. So I just 'scanned' the place, found you, and I got this guard lady to escort me so no one would freak out. The language barrier was a bit tricky, but she's nice, too. Oh. Hey, Anna, this is Johnny."

Anna waved mutely, and now Johnny could make out that slight red glow in the eyes.

Johnny grinned nervously, hesitantly waving back.

"Look, Mavis..." he began, but it caught in his throat when he realized she was pouting at him...

"I just wanted to see you..." she mumbled.

He sighed, thinking about it, and kissed her quick, "Me too." he admitted. Then he panicked, "No! Bad! Really, Mavis, we're not supposed to leave our cells! It'd get us in more trouble and―the lady, she―" he indicated the policewoman, and Mavis suddenly grinned.

"Is that all you're worried about?" she asked, leaning in again, "I can just erase some of her memory..." she suggested.

"Erm, she's blinking..." Johnny pointed out, backing up a little, and Mavis blinked, and looked.

Indeed, the hapless guard looked like she was trying to clear her head.

"Agh, I thought I had it right!" Mavis protested, and stare-zapped the woman again.

Johnny was quick to get up, brushing Mavis free of cobwebs, "Look, get back to your cell room, and wait there until you're actually let out," he told her quickly, "I'll see you once I get this stuff straightened out. We just need to be cool and play along, okay?"

". . . I'm still worried, though," she admitted, and he stayed still while she carefully traced the bandage, "I don't understand this..."

He held her hand gently, smiling, "We'll talk when we're out." he told her, kissing her hand and then her, "We'll be okay, Mavis. Okay?"

She nodded, and kissed him a lot more firmly, "Love you, Johnny."

He stood there stunned as she misted through the bars, walking with the policewoman back to wherever she'd come from.

Slowly, he laid back down, and then grinned, feeling much less stressed and cruddy than he had ten minutes ago.

They were going to be okay... He was sure he'd get to make that phone call.

He thought over it, and then his face fell when he realized he'd have to tell Drac that they actually were in jail...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

He blinked, and saw daylight. His eyes stung, his body ached. He tasted blood and chalk and that cruddy 'morning taste'...

He shifted on the rubble, clumsily shoving it off him, blinking the dust out of his eyes, spitting it out of his mouth, waking up...

Concrete, plaster, debris, plastic shards from light fixtures, sparks, water from broken sprinkler systems, the smell of smoke and burnt rubber over anything...

It's quiet except for the ringing in his ears.

He sat up, and every muscle in his body screamed in protest, his head throbbed in tandem. He winced, waiting for the pain to go away.

His shoulder wasn't working right.

Coughing, getting the same reaction, pain in the ribs, hard to get a full breath, getting up, c'mon, gotta get up, up...

He stared around, held his shoulder, stared at the hall that had been blown in, that he'd been walking down with...with...Sandberg...

Where's Sandberg...?

He looked around.

He found Sandberg...

Johnny stared, processing, and almost threw up, choking as he inhaled dust. Dust everywhere, in the air, on him, on the crushed remains of Sandberg...

He kept it down, he breathed shakily, looking away, thinking. No. Think. Think. Okay, okay, what happened? Poor Sandberg. What _happened?_

Okay, they were...walking down the hall to...to let him make that phone call. Or had he already made that phone call? He didn't know.

And then...then just..._boom_.

Well, that's not what it sounded like really. It was a feeling. A quick, heavy _feeling_ and _sound_ of boom that he was still feeling, like a constant fall-scare.

The building...blew up? What? How much of the place is―_Mavis_.

_Uh-oh._

"'vis?" he choked out, looking around.

The feeling of pain and confusion was replaced by the feeling of 'uh-oh'. Like...like when you're done for the day, you're in a strange place, alone, and want to use your cell to call someone to pick you up, or get a coin for a payphone, but you find your pockets are completely, wrongly _empty_, and it's growing dark... It was like that feeling, like a sickening, cold, twisting feeling in his stomach.

He started stumbling through the debris, past the blown in wall, feeling stuff crumble under his shoes and snag against his clothes.

Uh-oh... Uh-oh... Uh-oh...

His ears _pop_ and he finds out he's been yelling, near screaming, feeling his heart thud in his ribcage, pins and needles all over his skin, "_MAVIS?!_"

Uh-oh. Uh-oh. Uh-oh.

There's still ringing, but it's background, more like the distant whine of a jet engine. His throat hurts and gives out from screaming.

Uh-oh. Uh-oh. Uh-oh. Uh-oh.

He's going back to where he knows where his cell is...was... No, yeah, it's still there, but even where it hadn't been blown in, there was shattered glass everywhere.

He goes past it. Last night, she had gone left. Her cell is this way. He's nearly slipping on pebbles and crumbs of glass.

_It was a shockwave, Johnny. That's why there's glass everywhere._

_Remember that one frat party you'd gone to, when they thought it'd be funny to experiment with some genius's pseudo-C-4?_

Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh.

He stumbled onto another exploded area, this one was around more jail cells. There had been people in them.

Or at least he sees some, but there's no Mavis. Some of them are still moving, so that's good, right...?

He makes sure they can move, he helps some of them get away.

But where's Mavis?

_Look at the way the debris went, Johnny, the direction of the blast. This one's higher impact, wrong way out. This one went off from a jail cell._

Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh...

This wasn't the only one. They were at odd intervals, but some explosions had come from the wrong side...

He found the female area, followed it, it was quieter here, he realized that some of the ringing was from sirens, some from women, screaming, crying...

_Uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh..._

He rounded a corner, straight into a blasted area. Water was steam here, wetting the dust on his skin.

"Mavis...?" he croaked, stumbling on. Please, somewhere, anywhere, Mavis, please answer...

He shuffles past, quickly glancing into each cell. Some emergency mechanism had unlocked the doors, but some were jammed, glitched. There were sometimes women in there, crying, quiet, watching, women he couldn't help, and none of them were Mavis. He rounded another corner, the white noise a quiet hum in his head that gradually blocked out everything but the throbbing rush of blood in his ears. He was near the end now...

He could make out a shape, see those distinct dark clothes and that fringe of black hair...

_Uh-oh..._

_Uh-oh..._

_Uh-oh..._

_Uh-oh..._

_Oh no...  
_

* * *

**. . ._  
_**

* * *

She was huddled in the corner, staring at nothing in particular. She was dusty, and damp, heavily bruised. Her clothes had rips in places, bleeding, but already healing. She was slightly hemmed in, avoiding the splash of sunlight through the great, gaping, crumbling hole in the ceiling. But she didn't seem to notice that.

The twisted remains of a bed frame and a beaten, charred mattress were beside her.

She glanced at him, then back at where she'd been staring.

". . . She'd been talking to someone... The nice lady with the tattoos..." she mentioned quietly, when in his tiredness he sat down next to her. Johnny listened, relieved to just hear her speak, happy to just feel her shoulder against his, even if it was the sore one... "Last night, when-when I'd come back after... She was...talking with someone through the bars, I didn't understand what... I didn't think much about it, he seemed like he worked here, that she knew him... He spoke English just as good as Swedish, didn't mind I'd snuck out, called it 'cute', and... I didn't think much about it..." she took a shaky breath, leaning on Johnny, "He told me he was handing out...handing out _gifts_ to people who needed them..."

She was shaking, she was small, she was scared.

He wanted to tell her it was okay, that he was okay, that she was okay, but he was tired, and just so happy to be _with_ her, but she was nearly crying...

"L-later she woke me up..."

Mavis swallowed.

"She was...wearing a...a vest with _things _on it, throwing our beds on the sides, shoving me behind them and...she just kept _smiling_..."

Mavis was shaking, hands clenching, and Johnny heard the crackle of paper from her fingers.

"She gave me this before she...b-before she pressed the... Oh, _God_, I just don't _understand_..." she whimpered.

Johnny wordlessly took the paper, a sticky note, smoothing it out as best he could, holding Mavis against him as she shuddered into his chest.

_'Other people need other things to help them out, too. Do you understand yet?' _

It was in the same writing style as the one in Johnny's pocket...

. . .

He let it drop, picking up Mavis to let her curl up into him, letting his aching head fall back against the wall, while the ringing of his ears melted into the wail of police cars and the blarings of ambulances and fire trucks and the quiet, quietly fading cries of Mavis...


	3. Little Black Vest

_The woman was smiling. Her body was bare, her arms at her sides, showing the ink black birds and henna red vines racing up the dark skin of her wrists, her forearms, her biceps, her shoulders, and collarbone like sleeves, like shadows and veins, wild and beautiful. __They were beautiful._

_The woman couldn't really be called beautiful, but she was...handsome, and she had such a nice, warm smile..._

_She was standing there, smiling at Mavis, while the man walked around the woman with a shiny, crisp measuring tape, dressed like a tailor._

_'It's a gift...' he told Mavis, checking the measurement of the woman's waist with a slightly intimate caress to the hip._

_'Can't you see how happy it makes her?'_

_He was measuring the shoulders, the bust, shoulder to hip, shoulder to collar, circling her, and Mavis could only stand there as the tape gently looped around the smiling woman's neck, and he took care to brush at the woman's scalp, to make sure no hair would be caught between tape and skin._

_'It's cute...' he commented, yanking the tape short with a loud SNAP._

_Mavis could practically taste bile and blood when the woman still smiled at her, head tilted just shy of too much to the side..._

_'__You are cute.' he told Mavis, squinting at the numbers on the measure, before tossing the tape aside, brushing off his hands._

_The woman's head obediently straightened with a gentle crackle._

_Mavis could see his smile, but she couldn't see his face. She could see him wink, but she couldn't see his eyes._

_'I can see why he'd do the things that he would for you.' he continued laughingly, walking towards Mavis._

_Mavis couldn't move. He walked towards her and he―_

_―walked past her, but she couldn't turn to watch him. She felt him behind her, felt her hackles rise and her wings try to escape from her arms..._

_Mavis felt like she could inhale, at least, so she did, but she froze. This **smell**..._

_Her stomach twisted and churned, even as it growled..._

_'It's really amazing, the things that such love can do.'_

_He came back with a dark, neatly folded bundle in his hands, his back to Mavis._

_He showed it to the woman, who looked at it, and then him, and her face practically lit up, as she looked at him with such...**affection**..._

_Mavis was trying to shake her head, trying to say 'no'. She could feel herself say 'no', she felt it in her throat and on her lips, but nothing was coming out._

_Mavis was starting to choke, realizing she could only inhale, so she started swallowing the air, trying to stop, trying not to smell, her stomach churning, growling..._

_He was carefully unfolding the simple, black vest, holding it up for the woman, like he was asking for her approval._

_She nodded happily, and he went behind her._

_She smiled at Mavis as she held out her arms so he could slip the vest on, melodious gibberish flew from her mouth that Mavis couldn't understand._

_'No,' Mavis tried to scream, 'No, no, no.'_

_Wanting to scream to tear the vest to back away to turn around to close her eyes to **do something**..._

_And she could only keep inhaling, as the woman contentedly held up her own hair so he could put the vest on more snugly._

_He adjusted it with what looked like tenderness, combing his fingers through her hair one more time before walking back towards Mavis to stand beside her._

_'Really, it's a gift that keeps on giving...' she heard him say, as she could only watch._

_'Even when it hurts...'_

_The woman actually laughed, silently, looking down at her vest, twirling in place like Mavis remembered doing herself when she was a little girl playing dress-up._

_'Even if it has to scrape from the bottom of the barrel...'_

_The woman waved at Mavis, smiling kindly, saying something that Mavis couldn't understand no matter how much she wanted to, before backing up a few steps, spreading her arms and hands wide and tossing her face back to the sky. Her tattoos seemed to shift against her arms like the shadows of grasses. More henna red vines and ink black birds flowed up from her feet, as the vest sank into and beneath her skin. It was a strange thing that Mavis didn't understand._

_And the woman...**shattered**..._

_The vines grew, and the birds flew, while the woman's skin and blood and everything became nothing more than a horrific, silent, gruesome mist._

_The last things to go were her steadily widening smile, and her arms. Her smile was white and shining and beautiful, even through the blood. It looked like those henna red vines had taken roots in her arms, shifting and revealing the twin, long-healed, pale, raised scars that ran from inner wrist to inner elbow..._

_Mavis inhaled the mist._

_It was as much a relief as it was a revulsion to breathe in..._

_She couldn't stop, even when she tried to scream 'no...no...no...' even when she tried to spit, even when she felt the first solid drops on her tongue..._

_'Don't worry, you don't need to explain. I understand... And I think it's cute,' she heard him say, and shuddered when it felt like he was near her ear.__  
_

_'I won't tell anyone... Go back to bed, now. He'll be there for you.'_

_With nothing else she could do, Mavis closed her eyes, with the pooling taste of blood running down her throat._

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

She woke up coughing, choking on that watery warmth that she had swallowed.

That disturbing sensation and taste swished slightly in her mouth and...from her nose?

She sniffed in experiment, making a face, and brushed her finger over her upper lip to see the fresh, wet redness.

Nosebleed.

Huh.

She sniffed again, and then panicked as the blood flowed freely, starting to drip everywhere, down her face, over her hands, even on the, "Oh..._crap_..._!_" she disentangled herself quickly from the fuzzy orange blanket, accidentally shoving Johnny awake as she searched through this...through this _thing-place _to find something to stifle the blood, hand awkwardly clapped over her face. No, no, agh, ick, crap! Nosebleed!

Paper towels, paper towels, paper to-o-owels...?! Ah! Paper towels! Woo!

She grabbed fistfuls of the stuff to hold it against her face, breathing slowly as her panic wore off and her chills died down. _Whew_...

"Hey, sleepy-head..." she heard Johnny rasp, and she turned to face him.

". . . Pforry..." she mumbled, muffled through the towels.

He shook his head, motioning his chin to the spot next to him, smiling, "It's cool. You okay?"

She thought to nod, but couldn't, just held the paper towels to her face, waiting for it to clot...

He tilted his head, "Nosebleed, and you looked kind of freaked out. Nightmare?"

She nodded quietly, sitting down next to him, and felt him kiss her hair.

"Wanna talk about it...?" he asked.

She frowned, thinking, staring at the wall. An ambulance. They were in an ambulance. It was quiet.

"I...don't really 'member it..." she admitted uncertainly, making to lean on him, but then stopped, looking at him.

He had a simple tank top on, and she could see bandages on his shoulder and arm, holding his arm against his chest. She stared. He let her lift the tank top a bit, to see more bandages wrapped around his waist and the lower part of his chest to continue into the shoulder dressings. The flesh she could see was heavily, colorfully bruised...

"Sprained shoulder, a couple cracked ribs," he explained quietly, smile straining at the corner, gently holding her hand to stop her fingers from trembling, and she let the shirt fall back down, "Nothing major. But you _are_ talking to the guy who's broken a leg, so this is actually pretty cool, just have to take it easy on the ol' dusty trails, yeah? . . . Though I kinda wish there was a cast to write stuff on, some people write the awesomest stuff." he laughed, "It's a funny story, actually... Huh?" She'd looked up at his face, blinking, silently pointing. Across his cheek, and actually over many small cuts, were pink Hello Kitty band-aids. He laughed again, rubbing a fingertip against one, "Ah, yeah, these. Um, one of the paramedic's kids, really cute little girl, don't know how she tagged along but...real adorable. She had whole _boxes_ of these things and was just sticking them on anybody, following her dad around and... Oh, yeah, you got one, too." he pointed to some place above Mavis's eyes, "She couldn't find anything easily to fix, I guess, so she just, y'know, stuck one on," he chuckled, "She liked you, called you pretty. I think...I think you two would've hit it off..."

Mavis reached up, and felt that smooth little plasticky strip on the skin her forehead, blinking...

A grin trembled on her mouth.

"Heh... Eh-ha-ha... That's...that's cu―..."

She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

Johnny silently held her close with his good arm, while she did both...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Mavis's nose stopped bleeding, and she took advantage of the ambulance's privacy to brush her teeth.

She let that sharp, minty toothpaste taste spread on her tongue and spike the breath she inhaled, paying particular attention to her fangs, brushing and rinsing again and again until she wasn't spitting pink anymore... She even used that mouthwash stuff, letting its cleansing burn-chill stay there until she couldn't handle it, and only then she felt like she could breathe normally.

They would have to answer questions, being witnesses, both for the news and the police records. It was kept quiet, though, which Mavis was thankful for. Ironically, enough info had gone through management before the accident that Johnny and Mavis would be free to go. The interviewers and the police had been nice, giving Johnny and Mavis cards and references for follow-up treatment, both medical and...psychological...

They'd thanked them, packed up what had been recovered, and moved on. The next day, the couple were on the next train to the city of Stockholm...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

They kept a sharper eye and closer ear on the news, a subtle, shared tension to their shoulders that neither of them could explain or smooth away.

Johnny played at one of the stations they stopped at, earning some extra _kronor_ that they used to get a newspaper that he translated for her.

The Bombing of The ――― Detention Center was an article a few pages in. Something else was taking up the headlines.

Jonathan managed to reach the CNN and other news websites to confirm it. This...this thing, whatever it was, it wasn't just Sweden...

Places in Europe, Asia, even the Americas... Something was spreading, brewing like a fever, there were so many things being blamed, so many parties being pinned responsible. Money, borders, politics, failed trade, crime rates, weaponry... They'd had a cold moment when a shared blog suggested that maybe the discovery of the monster civilisations could have been a factor...

"Dad..." Mavis mumbled aloud.

"It's..." Johnny swallowed, trying to remember _did he make that phone call? _"He's, the hotel's safe, Mavis... Diplo...diplomatic importance..."

"But people are talking about―...!"

"I know." he hushed, and they glanced around the confines of the train.

". . . Johnny, this is getting out of control..." she said quietly.

Jonathan looked at her, and then at the rubber matting of the train aisle.

"I know..."

The paper in his pocket crackled, sounding like something biting into something crunchy...

Mavis didn't seem to hear it...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

The airports were shut down for 'security reasons'.

Border monitoring and crossing requirements for those borders were intensified.

This was where Jonathan seriously started taking stock of their Blood Beaters supply...


	4. Second Strike

Dracula had laid things out very clearly to Johnny before they left on their trip.

First, she did not have to eat blood or blood substitutes _all_ the time, though she'd be...capable of it, if she had to. She'd just need more of it to be able to. She could eat things like insects, meat, vegetables, fruits, and things like that just fine, and the blood would be included in her regular diet. She could eat pretty much just like a human or, heh, like a bat...

But things like blood, and blood substitutes, were _required_ in that diet, necessary, mandatory, even if just a little, like a supplement, a staple. There was something _in _the stuff that made up for something vampires inherently lacked, like...like an iron deficiency. There was something in blood and its substitutes that vampires could and had to process to survive.

But it wasn't like taking a vitamin every day. It was more along the lines of hydration, when Jonathan thought about it.

He had a notebook out, adding up the figures.

Mavis, when healthy, would only need to drink, like, a cup every 48 hours (one every other day) to keep up with the requirement. Of course, she liked the taste, so sometimes that was a cup roughly every 12 hours, one with breakfast, and one after dinner. That meant two cups a day. They'd shifted it to 24 hours when things got hectic (a cup a day), then 36 (stretching it just a bit farther), and Johnny was worried they'd have to stint and ration it to the 48 hour cycle.

Later he confirmed it. They had to ration.

The Blood Beaters cartons were sized and packaged the same as milk cartons from the US, and it was okay to leave them at any temperature, though she preferred them warm. Mavis just had to shake them before drinking. That made it good for traveling, so they stuck with the quart and pint cartons which were, uh...four and two cups each, respectively, yeah.

So, on the rationing, one quart would last them for...eight days, and one pint would last them for four, when Mavis was healthy.

They were now down to two quarts and half of a pint, which would last them for, _urgh_, math...sixteen, two..._eighteen_ days, if Mavis is _healthy_ and eating a regular diet...

He circled the number, staring at it, tapping it with his pencil.

They'd be okay for eighteen more days, a little over two weeks...

At the rate they were traveling...

That was enough, right?

That'd be enough?

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Scratch that. _One_ quart and half a pint left. That made...eight days, one cup left in that other one, so that still made two days...ten days.

Enough left for _ten_ **_days_**... Their supply was almost cut in half in the space of twenty minutes.

Some jerk had gone through Johnny's backpack while he was in a store. Probably mistook the stuff for...for orange juice or something and got freaked...

The Blood Beaters carton that had been in Johnny's backpack, crushed, stomped open on the sidewalk, pooling and drying in the open air, wasted...

Some of his other things were thrown around, too. It had been a quick scavenge, and...

No. . .

. . . No. This wasn't just a theft attempt.

Someone had left a note beside the ruined carton, detailing their opinion of vampires...and what they think should be done to them...

It's blunt, crude, and horrifying.

Stunned, he looks around, almost for help, but no one's really _looking_ at him. Glances land, gazes slide away, and everyone goes about their business.

Some of them had looked awkward, or sympathetic, but many had just looked...like they didn't want to be involved...

Like they'd forget about him as soon as they'd round the next corner...

What? Had they _seen _who _did_ this?

_What?_

. . .

Feeling displaced, and disturbed, he cleans up what he can, tossing the remains of the carton and the note into the nearest trashcan.

Nothing much else was missing, nothing important...

Still. Ten days left.

He tells Mavis about the supply loss, but he doesn't tell her about the note.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Things were changing as the days passed, as they kept going.

Hospital-hopping eventually let Johnny lose the bandages, though his shoulder still ached now and then. Some kind of barometric pressure thing. People were talking less, though, moving more. There was more of a military presence, and Johnny and Mavis eventually kept to a low profile, stopping by the edges of urban areas before moving on. It was suspicious enough that they had to keep to night hours. Still, rock on you 24-hour operating facilities!

A lot more places were closing, though. In the wake of more attacks, there were less repairs and more evacuations. The trains were eventually getting crowded, the crowds eventually getting more...packed. Like a bomb.

Jonathan had started sticking to speaking Swedish from the get go, practicing his accent, while Mavis stayed quiet.

These people were starting to get suspicious of any foreign accents, it seemed like. Not that they were hostile or anything they just...looked at them funny...

It got bad at one store, though...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

_The quiet clicks of buttons, the sharp beep of the digital register._

_"/. . . Ah. . . I'm afraid I can't take your purchase, sir./"_

_". . . What―? Wait―/what? Why?/"_

_"/I can't accept your card./"_

_The slipping sound of plastic being pushed back across the countertop._

_He takes it back hesitantly, automatically reaching for his pocket._

_"/Uh... Well, um, I have some cash if you―/"_

_"/I can't accept it, sir. I'm sorry./"_

_"/But―/"_

_"/New rationing policy. I'm sorry./"_

_"/You gotta be―that's just―but I've―what if I just buy the food? C-c'mon, ma'am, just the food at least, please.../"_

_"/. . . I'm sorry./"_

. . .

_"/Um... O-okay... I... Huh... Ah-hah, uhm, well...okay... Uh, goodbye, I guess... I'll try, um, I'll try...yeah.../"_

_The door opens, and closes._

_The woman waits, and waits._

_And then the woman cries._

_But quietly, there are still customers..._

. . .

_Later, she goes out with a small package of food she'd bought by herself, looking around, hoping maybe the American is lingering nearby, still._

_She's too late to find the man._

_She'll share the food with her family, instead. At dinner, guilt is filling her stomach too much to consider eating._

_But she looks at the concentrated, absently grateful faces of her family, and she does eat, swallowing it down with the acrid aftertaste of saline..._

_Waste not..._

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Johnny stood there mutely, for the first time in a long time uncertain of what he was doing. What he was going to do.

Another store he'd tried had been willing to sell to him, so they were still in the clear. But Jonathan is now _panicking_.

When stores were no longer an option... He's roughed it before, but this was by himself, only having to feed one mouth. How were he and _Mavis_...?

His hand reaches into his pocket again, to check his money, but it's the wrong pocket he tries.

That piece of paper from the faceless man rasps against his fingertips, catching it out of the creases it'd bent into from being in his pocket for so long.

He pauses, testing it carefully, before pulling it out, unfolding it.

There's an address for each major town, and the phone numbers... He'd ignore those.

But one address was around here.

He thinks.

He talks to Mavis, and she makes him feel slightly better by technically calling him out as an idiot.

"I can turn into a _bat_, Johnny," she chuckled, "To save on space and food. I can hunt...small things and drink their blood if I have to."

". . . Oh." he grins tiredly, "Well, I feel dumb now."

She smiles back, leaning against him, "Nah. You're just worried. And it's okay," she told him.

She was gently kicking her feet against the rock, brushing the toes of her boots through the thin layer of frost over the dead leaves, "Just stay safe..." He nodded, and watched her as she checked his shoulder out of habit, gently poking at the tendons through his parka, before she decided to use it as an excuse to hold him to her.

And it's okay...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

He leaves the backpacks with Mavis this time, taking only what he needed to buy anything. This place only opened in the daytime.

It takes a while to get there, having to ask for directions at times.

His ears are ringing again. It's been happening on and off since the Center bombing...or, or maybe when they'd gotten arrested... He didn't remember for sure. But he'd learned to ignore it. It changes its pitch every now and then, currently sounding like that jet plane whine, again. He knows the sound, when you're sitting in the plane cabin, getting a window seat, and there's that quiet roar before take-off and the near-silent background shrill that's easy to forget it's there until the plane shifts in angle or altitude, and there's just that slight change in pitch...

He shook his head, lightly thumping it to clear it. Those directions had led him to more of the back ways. He checks the paper, then the building.

This was it.

That sense of foreboding he'd gotten from following one of faceless dude's suggestions was...severely let down...

It was very...well, plain. It really was just a small general store, old brick, awkwardly squashed between other buildings, just like any other small local store you'd find. Huh.

He walked in hesitantly, a bell rang when he'd opened the door, sounding strangely muffled, like there was cotton in it.

He stared at it, distracted.

"/Hello. Excuse me, one moment./"

He looked at the counter, quickly. An older woman was getting behind it, looking like she'd been sweeping, smiling tiredly. Now that he thought about it, anyone he'd seen lately looked tired... Then again, war zones could do that to people.

"/What can I do for you?/" she asks, and he's about to speak, when she blinks, looking at him.

"Ah..." she grins, interrupting him with English, surprising him, "It's you. You nearly took too long, sir, my stores are nearly sucked dry! First time buying, _ja_? That's okay, first time buying, and with a customer's recommendation no less, gives you discount. Wait here."

". . . Hi?" Johnny mumbled, nonplussed, as the lady shifts and hip-checks her way through boxes to a room or closet behind the counter.

He stands there awkwardly, while she crashes and curses around in there, he hearing several swearwords in both English and Swedish and even Slovakian, some of any language he was sure he'd never heard before and wasn't sure he wanted to try translating.

"Got it! Neh... You'll be in for long haul..." she grunts, backing out unsteadily with a box, which he quickly helps her with, and they set it on the counter.

She shoos him off with an idle shove to the chest, and Johnny is even more freaked out when she takes a letter opener to the tape, stabbing and ripping at it with what seems to be enthusiastic inefficiency, but the thing's open in seconds. She smiles, wiping her forehead, and blinks when he's not where he'd been.

Johnny is at the _other _side of the counter by the time she looks at him, staring like a deer in the headlights. She smirks, "No backpack? _Huh_. No weapon even. I don't know what _he_ sees in you." She rolled her eyes when Johnny frowns, opening the box, "We use some cartons, _ja_." she tells him, "But sometimes they are too..._pretty_. Impractical. I recommend bags, better storage, better travel, but price per unit is different. Bags are higher quality, slightly less quantity, and maybe messy eating if not used to them. Still, is better for what comes. Better the marrow than the meat, hm?"

"Eum..." Johnny leans over to look in, uneasy. Quarts of Blood Beaters neatly share half the box with stacks of blood-filled IV bags...

"Those are...?" he pointed at the bags warily. She snorts, "Yes, they are still your precious _fake _blood. Kids these days, won't drink like they should..."

That makes him blink, and he looks at her. "Um, I'm Johnny..." he told her, subtly inquiring.

She tilts her head, her braids swinging while she grinned a toothy grin, "I'm not caring. But I am Baba. Somehow I do not think we will meet again, though. This place is getting loud..." When he stares, she pointedly looks at the box, smiling, "Make your purchase, Mr. Johnny, your lady friend is waiting..."

Johnny haggled prices with Baba, and eventually leaves with two more quarts and three IV bags of Blood Beaters.

One bag equals roughly two cups, equals four days. Three bags equal twelve days, and with the two quarts, that makes another sixteen days.

Plus those ten days they have, they now have... Let's see, twenty-eight... Thirty-eight days' worth. Nearly two whole _months_' worth.

Johnny's smile is beaming as he walks back down the road, arms swinging with the grocery bags that sloshed with the slightly thick liquid.

They were _rich!_

They're set!

Johnny takes a moment to think it's probably pretty weird that he's this happy about buying blood... Fake blood, but...

Then he takes another moment to think maybe Mavis could even have _two_ cups tomorrow...

He'd have to get straws or something for the bags but...heck, who was he kidding, this was _awesome!_

"_Vampire girl with the fangy-fangs! Hair real cute with the bangy-bangs! Neeeoww!_"

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Baba unplugs her ears after that wretchedly _weird and **mushy **_singing fades...

She smirks at the door, amused despite herself.

"I've forgotten how _cute _children are..." she comments, grinning nostalgically, and then takes up a cup of the red stuff, setting it on the counter.

She stares at it, nose nearly against the glass, and then sees the liquid slightly tremble against the sides, hears the distant rattle of breakable things, feels the faintest shudder of the ground under her feet and the lightest touch of a hot breeze. She smells the ash and blood and air tainted with disgusting alchemy...

She'd fulfilled her debt, silly as it seemed. Blood Beaters, and a temporary protection spell right in the body. But hey, it bought her a warning.

Well, it was time to move shop. This was going to be a poor place for customers pretty soon...

She sighs, and knocks the drink back in one gulp, before sharply rapping her knuckles on the countertop, and the room shifts.

There is the faint, distant sound of clucking, and she settles back.

Outside the store, on either side of the steps leading up to the front door, the ground breaks and shifts.

Cruel black talons the size of a grown man's arm burst from where the building and the road meet.

They flex, working out their kinks, and gouge into the cobblestone, and press... There's the heavy groan and scrape of brick and beam as the entire store struggles in rising from its snug slot between the buildings, hopping slightly on giant chicken legs...

* * *

**. . .  
**

* * *

Johnny had gotten slightly turned around at one point, and was going to be later in getting out of town than he'd hoped for.

That whine in his ears was really starting to bug him... It was like it was increasing.

He hoped Mavis wasn't too―

Everything went quiet.

The world shook, shuddered under Johnny's feet.

He stumbled, flailing at the surreal, startling shift, wondering briefly if that concussion had been worse than he thought if his brains were this messed up...

The feeling doesn't pass so much as it stabilizes, a constant force of all-encompassing _movement _that he can barely process, like riding on a rodeo bull, except it was huge, and he was standing on it, and it certainly didn't feel like a robot...

He manages to find his legs, and his ears catch up with him, telling him about distant shrieks of people and the scream of metal and the deafening, gunfire crack of stone, and then his vision gets his attention, and he looks up, as the line of buildings on one side of the street look like they're about to topple like dominoes towards the ones on the other side, and so on Johnny. It's surreal.

He looks up, as the row of buildings rises up and over the sky in a _wave_.

This was too _unreal_...

This couldn't _really_ be happening, right?

He stares as a rush of what looks like cloud or fog spreads across the sky, as the buildings block out the sun, and he can count the bricks.

Clouds weren't supposed to glow red, not at this time of day...

He can see his reflection in the windows, he can see the whites of his reflection's eyes.

This, no way, there was no way this could be _happening, r__ight__?!  
_  
Jonathan blinks, and thinks he sees a flash of pale skin and ice blue eyes.

And the world rolls over.

* * *

**. . .  
**

* * *

. . .

_"Johnny? Johnny, wake up... I―I'm not kidding, Johnny, **please **wake **up**..."_

_Sorry, Mavis. He dropped the blood. It should be over...over there somewhere..._

. . .

_"No. No-no-no-no-no don't **do **this to me you **told me you'd stay SAFE**...!"_

. . .

_"P-please, Johnny, this really hurts... I... Johnny, I swear I will **bite **you if you don't. Freaking. **A****nswer me, damn you!**"_

_He feels her shaking him, his shirt, she's...she's hitting him? Why is she hitting him? Mavis?_

. . .

_Stop crying, Mavis, it's okay... It's... He finds her hand, squeezes, and he starts feeling more awake..._

_She's squeezing his hand back, hard, and he feels her dragging him, geez, Mavis, he can walk..._

. . .

_"Please, don't do this to me, please, please don't... Oh-h, God, this **h-hurts**..."_

. . .

_He squeezes her hand again, that seems to be the only thing she can take from him._

_"That's right, Johnny, w-we're almost there, stay with... Al-l-mos'..."_

_He feels Mavis's hand slip from his, and he can't feel it, can't reach it..._

. . .

_Why did she let go?_

. . .

_Hey, Mavis, why did you let go...?_

. . .

_Mavis?_

. . .

_MAVIS?!  
_

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Jonathan woke up, but he didn't dare open his eyes.

It was like...a migraine, straight into his skull.

Like his own skull was trying to crush itself.

Like someone stripped his entire skin and replaced it with scalding hot _sandpaper_...

He chokes back a sob as the pain is all he can process at the moment. He moves...a finger-r-r―nope, too much, too much...

His body stung, his head pulsed, his mind puttered along...

Johnny lay there for a long time...

His eyes peel open, and the sunlight's...weird... It's not piercing, or up there, but it's setting and...fuggy...

That was some weird fog...

He moves a leg, an arm, and is surprised to feel the grocery bags still with him, wrapped around his wrist, and downright amazed he had all of his limbs...

He slowly sits up, teeth clenching fit to strain the jaw as sheer pain ripples through each stiffened muscle.

His skin is tender and raw, incredibly so, he's pretty much a used punching bag. He rubs his head, and disturbingly feels some strands of hair come away, smelling gross, like they'd been burnt, but it's only a bit. How was this damage so much and yet...not worse?

The plastic of the grocery bags had slightly melted together, molding around his slightly clenched hand like a plastic glove...thing...

He peels it off, and amazingly all of the blood stuff, cartons and bags, is okay...

He can't help a smile of relief, and looks over at where she's laying next to him, quietly curled on her side.

The smile slowly fades.

. . .

Mavis isn't okay...


	5. Grim Tidings

**Please Read:**

_This chapter right here is where that little 'violence' warning will start earning its rep._

_Just so you're warned._

_Um, gore can be interpreted as violence, right?_

* * *

**_. . ._**

* * *

Mavis isn't okay.

His beaten lump of a backpack is tossed in first, their bagged blood supply rolling and tumbling sloshily with it, and he nudges it aside with a foot to get to the medical table.

This place is a small clinic, somehow having held up against most of the destruction. He screams for help a few times, but it seems to be abandoned...

The electricity is dubious, the light is flickering on and off, repeatedly giving him miniature blindspots, and he swears, trying to blink his eyes clear.

He's coughing, gagging on that wrong taste in the air.

That fog keeps rolling sluggishly outside that fancy floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall window, washing everything in a dim, murky light, almost like it was dusk.

Mavis is carried on his back, shrouded in a blanket to block whatever sunlight's out there. .

She's light, but the very pressure and friction of her body against his shirt and sandpaper skin is _agonizing_, but...that doesn't matter...

Mavis isn't okay.

Her body is a deadweight on his back, almost disturbingly still.

While finding this place, at times he'd quietly panicked, until he'd feel her breath on his neck, the subtle shift of her ribs and chest against his back, and even as it fills him with relief, a choking, animalistic, _animistic_ fear is eating at him, biting at his heels, telling him to hurry, hurry, hurry...

Mavis isn't okay.

He carefully shoulders her off his back, uncovering her, holding her bridal style. It's worse when she only gives a quiet whimper in her unconsciousness, even when he feels her disturbing _stickiness _on his hands and arms, even when he touches wetness and warmth in places where there definitely shouldn't have been such... He swallows, gently putting her on her side on the table, not daring to look at her back yet, and still the lights are blinking, sparking, _irritating_...

_Why the hell aren't you looking, Johnny? Why **isn't** Mavis okay? Why aren't you **looking?**  
_

He shakes his head quickly, gritting his teeth as the flickering lights become too much. He searches around quickly for the light switch to this room, angrily flicking it off, and waited there, facing the wall, breathing slowly, shakily, as his eyes got used to the foggy sunlight outside, and the light is dry and acrid-looking through the fog's filter, almost yellowish; wild, exotic, and sickly-looking air...

He finally turned to make himself look at her prone, fetally-curled form, feeling something stick in his throat, feeling his heart thud in his chest.

Mavis isn't okay...

It's slightly hit the back of her scalp, and shoulders, and there're some spots on the backs of her legs where it'd gotten through her jeans. But her _back_...

Mavis's back is _roasted_...

Her shirt is torn from the heat and debris and sheer force of the impact, stretching in webs across her back where some of the fabric still holds, and he can see the strands tighten and slacken with each shallow breath she takes, gently sticking to her flesh... And the flesh underneath it is... Johnny feels cold in his hands and in his gut, the air is starting to feel thin in his lungs...

Along the edges of it, her skin is charred, browned and blackened and slightly blistering, and a splotchy red all over... He can see the layers of skin, the patches that weren't seared or leathery were already glistening with pus and plasma, a visceral tableau in red. He would swear he could see tendon and identify musculature, and the whole mass visibly pulses while she breathes... The wound is slightly lopsided, asymmetrical, more on her left side than her right, from where she'd turned her body to take the brunt of the blast while...while shoving him out of the way, covering him... The wound travels up slightly to the nape of her neck, where some of her hair is burnt away.

It's a _burn_.

A third.

Degree.

_Burn_.

He stares at her back, and then at his hands, where his palms and fingers were already coloring dark red in the lines from dried blood. He blankly flexes them, and then looks back at her. As he watches, the edges of her wound are slightly hissing, crackling hesitantly, curling over the exposed meat like burning paper in reverse, but it's so slow, and another breath, another expanding of the ribs and muscle just tears these delicate, feeble repairs away...

Johnny quietly watched this process repeat itself with every breath she took, feeling numb in brain and body...

She wasn't healing.

Why wasn't she _healing?_

_C'mon, Johnny, **thi-ink...** Why **isn't** Mavis healing, huh? _

He swallows, his hindbrain an abrasive, pathetic whine of white noise in the back of his head...

_You know why she's not. You know why things are this way. You know what that is, out there, you know what caused it..._

_But you're here, you're both, here and now, **alive**. Now man up and help her... She's depending on you..._

"You...you didn't have to do that..." he mumbled to her, finally moving, rummaging for a Blood Beaters quart, setting it on a counter nearby, before looking at her again. "You..." he continued, moving around, shaky hands rummaging through office drawers, finding bandages, tweezers, a scalpel, rubbing alcohol, goes through his backpack, finds scissors, his hunting knife, granola bars, water bottles...

"You didn't have...to...I-I was coming back... I...I would've been _okay_, Mavey, I...I really would've... _Oh, God..._"

He breaks into cabinets, into back rooms, finds a Bunsen burner, uses its flame to sterilize the tools... He washes his hands with a water bottle, using some of the alcohol, and takes a moment to wait for that burning sting to go away, he hissed through his teeth as it hits the skin of his _ha-a-ands-**Christ**-that-smarts_...

He eventually gets the nerve to pick up the scissors, but the blades are slightly too blunt for shirt fabric. He sharpens them with his knife, and the task is a bit easier, as he carefully snips away at the remaining shreds and loose threads, peeling the remains of the shirt away from her back to more easily expose the wounded area, and the next bit would be a bit awkward but―...

He stares, nearly choking, the scissors beginning to shake in his cold, sweating hands.

There's...there's debris from the blast, yeah, stuff embedded in there that would make sense to pick out, but...

Her...her bra, the straps, um, those...those clasps were called...eyes and hooks, right?

The fabric had charred, leaving a distinct welt pattern under and around her shoulder blades.

The air is hissing rapidly through his clenched teeth in short, shallow breaths, his eyes are wide as a cold, nauseating chill settles and twists heavily in his body.

The hooks they...they were melted...the bits were...w-were embedded in the wou―the scissors drop with a clatter, as he runs outside just in time to throw up...

. . .

He wipes off his mouth, grimacing at the tastebud-numbing sting of acid on his tongue, coughing...

He sat back, resting his head against the hard cement wall, gritting his teeth as even the memory of the sight threatens with another twist in his stomach.

This...this was going _so **wrong**,_ Mavis...

. . . Oh, God, he left her in there alone...

He stumbles back to where he left her, and then nearly recoils again at the sight of the raw wound, but she's just as he left her. Unconscious, and vulnerable...

He slumps, drained...

. . . He shuffles on his knees to sit against the table she curls on, breathing slowly, trying to ease the nausea.

He just sits there, trying to calm his breathing, words running little circles in his head.

He doesn't know what he's doing.

He doesn't know why this _happened_.

He's scared, and he doesn't know what he's doing.

Why did this happen?

Why can't he just―?!

His head falls back against the table's cabinets, making them rattle.

. . . He knows why this happened.

And he knows what had happened.

. . .

He stands up, washes his hands again, grits his teeth through the alcohol, passes the tools through the flame again, just in case.

That does not matter. None of it matters.

What matters is that they're here, now, and still alive. He can still at least do _this_...

He gently moves her to get the best angle of light on her back, laying a hand on the bare, intact skin of her waist as a comfort, and he picks up the tweezers...

The best thing he can do now, that _they _can do, is just keep going...

* * *

**. . .  
**

* * *

_He trims away at the remnants of the shirt, at the bits of her hair around the burn, so the fibers wouldn't get stuck to the flesh. If he ruffles her hair a bit, the patch isn't noticeable. Plus, he just likes her hair. When it comes to removing what was left of the bra, Johnny was conflicted... It was necessary, but it still felt wrong, to see her this...this exposed, this vulnerable, this **intimate,** when there shouldn't have been **anything** arousing in this situation... He looks at her back again, and his self-control resumes, and he pushes all those sordid thoughts away..._

_She'd woken up partway through the debris removal, and the first thing she did when she saw him was smile. Even when she was half-naked and half-**cooked **she **smiled**..._

_When he asked her how it felt, her back, she'd actually told him that it didn't hurt. He'd even poked to make sure._

_. . . She hadn't lied._

_Mavis didn't ask why he'd started crying, she just held him, until he said was ready to bandage her..._

_It was awkward, and the awkwardness was stupid, and he felt like a sick jerk again._

_Neither of them said anything through the bandaging, but both were blushing, not looking at each other until he found a spare shirt for her..._

_They stayed in that clinic for the rest of the day, finding a room with a hospital bed to sleep on. Mavis slept on her stomach, on top of Johnny._

_Every now and then, he'd wake her up, just to be sure that she **would**..._

_When she was well enough to drink again, they'd had to give her a whole pint before she could feel comfortable. Shortly after that was when she started feeling the pain, and it was intense... She cried and cringed, as he checked the bandages of her back, and saw the edges of the wound start to knit themselves together by the second. He felt the hugest smile of relief spread across his face, as he comforted Mavis through the necessary pain of healing..._

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Her back would heal, but...Mavis wouldn't really get better...

It was unavoidable, and in ways unpredicted.

There had been something in the sunlight, in the blast, something that would've gotten her no matter what he did...

_It's **fallout**, Johnny. Radiation burn and good ol' Mother Nature's mutated sunlight. **That's** what got her, **that's** why she hadn't healed quickly or properly..._

The blast gave her a wound.

The wound would eventually give her an infection.

The infection would give her a fever.

And the fever would take her body.

And then it would just take her...


	6. Respite

For a while they just hang out at the clinic, munching on granola bars and canned fruit, and just...resting...

They don't talk about much, besides silly, meaningless things. They just enjoy each other's company. They cherish it.

Mavis's back is still tender, and the skin is disturbingly delicate, but she's getting used to the sensation of constant slight healing.

She feels his fingers tracing along some of the scar tissue, and the sensation is kind of ticklish, but...interesting. He probably doesn't know he's doing it.

". . . I'm sorry." she said aloud, and feels him shift to look down at her, and she mumbles, "For, you know, hitting you..."

Jonathan can't help a laugh, and she adds, grinning, "And for swearing at you."

He's chuckling when she sits up, carefully to avoid straining the skin of her back, starting to laugh herself, "And for being an abusive girlfriend." she tries joking.

That makes him stop, "What? You? No way." he replies bluntly, smiling gently, and sits up to kiss her, which she's definitely cool with...

". . . Hmm-m... You sure?" she mutters, brushing her lips across his cheek, as he holds her closer, "I might like scratching or...something..."

His breathing's a little shaky when she's near his ear, "Eh, I wouldn't call that _abuse_..." he murmurs, gently squeezing one of her shoulders.

"Oh? Well, what would _you_ call it then?" she asks quietly, blushing, brushing the side of her face against his, running her fingers up through that red shock of hair.

He's alive, and here, and things are okay...

She feels him laugh again, "Maybe 'aggressive affection'?" he suggests.

She chuckles, and he continues, "Yeah, that works. Y'know, there's even a song that goes like _'Hurts so good! Dun-dun-du-dunna-dun! Come on, baby, make it hurt so good'!_" he sang. He smirks when she blushes, and he sings it again, "_Hurts so good! Ba-bah-buh-dunna-dun!_ _Come on, Mavey, make it hurt so―__!_"

"_Johnny!_"

That got her to protest, still blushing, and smack him on the shoulder, his good one. He apologizes, still laughing, but not letting her go.

They gradually settle down, as the sunset's light dims outside, turning the foggy sky an orange-ish color, softly coloring the whiteness of the room.

". . . You're okay, though, right?" she asks, smoothing her palm over the cloth where she'd thwapped him.

"Yeah," she feels him run his fingers up the nape of her neck, "Are you..?"

She nods, and feels him relax, but only a little.

He holds her against him, letting his forehead fall on her shoulder.

". . . That _scared_ me, Mavis."

"Me, too..."

Jonathan takes a breath, gently brushing his hand over her back, "How were you...how were you even_ there?_"

To get between him and the blast...

". . ."

She slowly sat back to face him properly, biting her lip nervously, "I... Oh-ho, geez, this is gonna sound _kinda_ creepy, but I...um...keep an eye on you, when you're away..."

He blinks.

She squirms uncomfortably when he just stares at her blankly, "I watch you when you go to human places without me?" she tries, but still gets a blank stare.

"With my 'scanning' thing?" she continues, pointing at her eyes. She frowns, waving a hand in front of his eyes, "Yo, Johnny?"

He's grinning, but it looks very nervous, "You didn't, uhm, watch me _all _the time, right...?"

Ah. She blushes, "Er... I...do-on't see anything you don't want me to..." she told him hesitantly.

"Oh..." he frowns, "But, hey, wait, how do you interpret what I don't want you to―"

"What _was _that, Johnny?" she interrupts hastily, opting for the serious conversation over an embarrassing one.

"What..._is _that...?" she asks again, gesturing a vague hand at the toxic-looking yellow-golden light that hazed to orange as evening fell.

Jonathan's face shut down slightly, as he looked towards the high window. It conveniently let in light without being harmful to Mavis. "It's...it's something that I don't think should've happened..." he muttered. He reluctantly gave Mavis a brief history lesson of the month of August, 1945, concerning the cities called Hiroshima and Nagasaki... Or at least, it's history to him.

Mavis silently recalled that year as he talked. A lot of the Japanese monsters hadn't shown up at the hotel that season, and when some did, her father had been unusually stressed about it, angry, but he'd never told her why... He'd just told her more stories about the horrible, horrible humans...

When Jonathan's done talking, they're both sitting next to each other on the edge of the bed. He's looking glumly at the floor, forearms resting on his knees. She's looking towards the wall, her knees curled and held against her chest, as she processed this. ". . . Woah." she mumbled hoarsely, "So _that_ was...?"

He chuckled, grimly amused, "Nah, that wasn't the thing itself. If I call it right, the initial impact was _miles _away from that... We just got the...the shockwave... The edge..."

Mavis's back twinged as she shivered, "It's just, when I was watching you, I just saw a wall of-of _fire_ or something, the world _rippling._ It was so fast..."

"Mavis, how far away _were _you?" Johnny asked roughly, "How long did it take you to even... _Why?_"

She blinked, looking at him.

". . . You're _seriously_ asking me that?" she said flatly, and he finally looks at her.

"You went out in the sun and in front of an _explosion_. You could've _died_, Mavis..." he protested, sounding stressed.

But she was already ticked, standing up to glare at him, "And you _**would** have_..." she pointed out angrily.

"Mavis..." he said slowly, expression darkening, but she rode over him.

"Don't start that, Jonathan. I know what you're gonna say and it's―no, just―_no._ Don't you _dare_ give me the freaking 'I'm-not-worth-it' speech, not now..."

He stared at her, poker-faced, and she grits her teeth, "What, you honestly would've preferred I just _left you?" _

"I don't, but I don't want you to risk your life, either, Mavis, so yeah, I think I _would_ have..." he grumbled, ". . . But you're right, we're here now, so let's just―"

"No. Oh-ho-_ho_ no, let's get something straight here, mister," she interrupted with a growl, "You? You were just-just _standing _there, staring like an idiot _squirrel_ while stuff was about to freaking _kill _you_._ And you dare expect me to just stand back and watch that happen?"

"Mavis, it's not―"

_"NO."_ she snapped, jabbing a finger at his face.

"_One_, I saved you from a _stupid death_, **_two_**, if we _both _ended up dying, then...then I would've been all freaking for it! At least I would've _done_ something!"

Now he's standing up too; hurt, angry, "You'd actually want to―that's _selfish_, Mavis!" he shouted.

"Oh, nooo, you wanna hear _selfish?!_" Her grin is strained and manic, her eyes are watering, "I'm not just selfish that I'm ignoring how you'd feel, oh, no: I'm so selfish that I don't want you to leave me by myself. I'm so _selfish_ that I don't want to be left alone in this place that I don't understand," she was viciously rubbing at her eyes as he just kept _looking_ at her, "I'm just so _freaking **selfish**_ that I'm _scared _of having to live by myself without you, I'm _scared _of surviving if it means I'd have to be _without **you**_, Johnny..." she's biting her lip harshly, nearly holding her breath to prevent tears, "And-and now I'm coming off as the freaking over-dramatic abusive _titch _of a girlfriend, and _I don't freaking_ **_care_**..." she hiccupped, rubbing at her eyes, ". . . I don't _care_... I thought...I thought you were _dead_, Johnny... And-and then I woke up, and you...were _okay_..." she grinned weakly, waveringly, "I-I just d-didn't want to lose you... I didn't want to be _alone_..."

They're staring at each other, frozen, before she blinks, and turns away, rubbing her hand over her face agitatedly.

"Mavis..."

He's stepping forward, as if to hold her, but she holds up a finger, stopping him, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"No... Just...just give me a moment..." she says quietly, and stands there, taking deep, shuddering breaths.

He pauses, slightly shocked, then slowly lowers his arms, stepping back a little to give her space, watching her steadily as she tries to calm herself down.

Eventually she does, roughly dragging her hand down her face to cover her mouth before she looked at him, before they looked at each other, and really _saw_...

Their eyes had shadows under the sockets, and were slightly bloodshot.

She was paler than usual, with a faint tremor to her body, her dark lips chapped, slightly hunched in at the shoulders as if she were cold, or felt threatened.

He was haggard, posture weary, the first hints of stubble appearing on his face, skin still showing faint signs of rawness in places.

They both silently, mutually acknowledged that they looked nothing like themselves...

He opens his arms again, hesitantly, and then embraces her when she steps in reach.

They hold each other, his chin resting on her head while her cheek presses against his chest.

". . . I'm not regretting anything, Johnny, not with _this_," she told him softly, hands clenching into the back of his shirt, "I don't want you to, either..."

She feels him breathe in, and hears him sigh over her hair, and he presses his lips to the top of her head.

"I won't." she hears, and she buries herself in closer, craving his presence, his comfort, and he gives it...

She laughs wryly, a brief huff of air from her nose, "Geez, we have enough to deal with without me adding _my_ crud..."

"Nah, it's fine..." he replies gently, "We have plenty of time right now to deal _with_ it. I'm...I'm sorry. And you're not abusive, okay? You're―"

"'Aggressively affectionate'?" she quips, and feels it when he laughs, "Yeah, that. And...my zing..."

"My zing..." she repeated, relieved.

They stand there for a moment, before briefly squeezing tighter and then back away, shifting on their feet.

She brushes her hair behind her ear, inhaling and exhaling a quick breath, "_Well_, uh... What happens now?" she asks.

Jonathan blinks, clearing his throat, "Well, we're stuck here for a couple of days... There's no going out, not in _that_." he gestures to the noxious atmosphere. "We've got enough food and blood, and I know how to rig water out of pipes when there's no electricity, so..."

"And if we get bored?" Mavis asked nonchalantly.

Johnny looked at her, and then mocked thoughtfulness, "Huh. I dunno... I'm _sure_ we'll survive, _some_how..."

She gives a small grin, shifting her weight on her feet, "Boredom's a terrible way to die." she notes, smirking.

He leans in, lazily smiling, "Wanna live a little, then?"

They stare at each other, and then she snorts, chuckling, face reddening, "I can't―_God_, that was cheesy..." she giggles.

"Like pizza." he agrees, relaxing as all tension breaks, stealing a quick kiss that she surrenders and prolongs...

. . .

". . . Urgh, now I want pizza..."

"Mm, focus, Johnny..."

"Yes, ma'am..."

As things quiet down, they get ready to actually sleep for the night. The smog's too thick for moonlight, and Mavis is tired...

They share a bed tonight, wanting the simple comfort of another warm body.

Mavis listens to his heartbeat until she falls asleep, tracing the faint shape of a heart on his T-shirt...

* * *

**. . . **

* * *

**_Note: _**_Q__uiet chapter today, dear reader, but no need to worry. The world is waiting for them just outside..._


	7. Caustic (Part 1)

Besides the obvious wound, they both have to agree that something's wrong with Mavis.

She would get sick to her stomach, have random headaches that would wear her out. Sometimes her skin would flush as if burned and be tender to the touch before it healed again, and when it happened to her back, it looked downright painful. She'd get tired more easily, and sometimes sleep more deeply, which scared Jonathan. Mavis would get ill, pale with cold sweats. Mavis _is _sick; it's eating at her...

The thing is...whatever happens is always slightly staved off when she drinks Blood Beaters... And Mavis wants―no... She _needs_ more blood...

She tries to hide it, but he sees how she looks at their Blood Beaters supply when she thinks he's not there, how thirsty she looks...

He never remembered seeing that look on her face, even when she'd been 'hungry' before all...this.

Her stomach actually growls even after she eats regular food. She tries to laugh it off, but...

One time Johnny had caught her messing with his backpack, absently fiddling with the zippers on it as if contemplating opening it. He doesn't confront her or anything, he just watches, not letting her know he's there. She doesn't open the backpack. He's relieved, no doubt about that, but...he's wary now... He doesn't like feeling that.

Neither of them say anything about it, but there's an unmentionable deadline hanging over their heads, and it intends to strangle...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Johnny waits until she's taking another nap, before laying out what they had on the counter of another room. The cartons are the heaviest, settling with a 'thunk', the bags hit the counter with a plastic slap and a slosh that sounds too loud in this small room. He glances at the door, but doesn't hear her stir.

The air was cleaner today. Rain and wind were clearing things up outside, but it still looked pretty risky.

There was sleet, sometimes, and he remembered it was late Fall.

No, focus.

He props his hands on the edge of the counter, standing over what he's laid out, trying to think this out...

If you take away the pint she had the other day, they had...

_Not enough. No matter **what **they have it's not gonna be enough..._

If he takes into account the new needs for her diet, m-maybe a cup a day, they'd...

_It's not **enough**. The travel time's gonna increase by half, with her in her condition. If she even **can **travel..._

They'd have...enough for...

His hand slightly tears through his hair in agitation. The white noise in the back of his head is irritating him again, all...quiet static...

_They won't._

He can't...what if they tried...

_Mavis._

_Is._

_SICK._

_Sick people don't travel well, and with all the crap that's out there..._

_We're not gonna make it, man, not on this._

He honestly doesn't know how he didn't sense her there, but with this ringing in his ears...

"Mmh... Johnny...?"

He looks up to see her leaning in the doorway, the white noise cutting off while she was wearily rubbing a sleep-darkened eye. He feels something in his throat catch, the hairs on the back of his neck prickle when she glances at the counter in front of him, a slight frown on her face. They stand there quietly, and he can only stay frozen, eyes wide while she looks on... He's about to open his mouth to explain, apologize for going behind her back or _something_, anything but a lie, he can't lie out of this, when she sighs, pushing herself off the door frame.

"Hey... How's it looking?" she asks simply, padding over to his side to lean on him.

His mouth open and closes dumbly for a moment, until she nudges him silently, and he gives up.

"It's not," he tries, hanging his head, "It's not good. It's not good, it's... Mavis, I'm _sor_―"

"Nope." she interrupts bluntly, gently pinching his arm, making him yelp. He glares at her reproachfully, rubbing his arm, and she smirks tiredly, "I'm not stupid, Johnny," she tells him, a wry twist to her mouth that conveys a slight bitterness, "I'm kinda mad, yeah, but not for what I think you're thinking... Stop babying me."

He's standing stock-still, and she hums, staring at the objects on the counter, ". . . I'm too tired for this," she muttered, "Whatcha thinkin'?"

He swallows, hesitant, "W-well, we have those two and half a quarts left, there, and three―"

"_Johnny_."

He shuts up, feeling her rub her head slightly against his shoulder, "I'm not asking what you think about _this_." she waves a dismissive hand at the counter, "I'm asking what you think about..." her hand is more vaguely gesturing, before she ruffles her bangs, "Al-l-l _this _stuff. I'm asking about _you_."

". . . You lost me." he confessed, and she snorted, "C'mon, you've heard me and my baggage. Heck, you literally _carried _my baggage." she persisted, shoving him gently, "I'd like to think you've earned a little 'rant time'..." "Um-m, guys don't do 'rant time'..." he mumbled defensively, making her laugh.

"How about some downtime, then?" she asks instead, starting to drag him away, "I'm kinda missing my pillow."

He almost lets her take him away. Almost.

"No, not right now," he gently extricates himself, backing to the counter, shaking his head, "Mavis, I'm sorry, I...I gotta sort this out..."

Instead of protesting, Mavis just stands there, and that probably gets his notice more than anything else she could've done.

She's staring at him, head tilted, pupils disturbingly dilated. He remembers seeing her enraptured expressions, at that one sunrise, or just before she'd kissed him on the dance floor, but this expression felt slightly different, putting out a different intent, and not a good one... It actually felt slightly...off...

Mavis surprises him by stepping forward to lean and place her hands on the counter on either side of him, standing almost against him, moving her face close to his as she essentially pinned him there with her lithe body... "Then sort it out with _me..._" she told him quietly. His tongue felt stuck to the back of his throat as he felt her breath against his lips. ". . . You're _stressed_," she continued, almost idly, "You're worrying all the time, all by yourself, banking, heh, banking blood..." She took a moment to giggle at her joke, and somehow it's scary. ". . . It kinda makes _me_ worry, too, Johnny," she continued after a beat, sadly, "I just want you to let me in, yeah...? I just want you to..._relax_ a little..."

His breath shudders when she brushes her lips over his, then over his cheek, trailing almost absently to his ear, where she exhales on the _cartilage_, _cra-a-ap_...

"M-Mavis, I'm gonna be honest with you and say it's _really _hard to relax at the moment...!" he stuttered, making her back off slightly and finally blink.

"You mean... It's not working?" she asked sadly, almost pouting. That makes him break out in a high, nervous laugh, "_Tha-_at's not what I mean..." he strained, feeling the small of his back pressing sharply against the counter's edge, his own hands nervously gripping it until the knuckles were white.

She blinks again, and then her face colors red, "_Oh_, I―oh, I, oh, _geez, I'm, didn't mean, I'm so―oh-h **bog** it!"_

His brain shorts out when the presence of her body abruptly leaves his, as she stumbles back. He's...stunned. She didn't actually mean that she wanted―...? Whuh?

He blinks, mutely watching her pace agitated circles, speaking gibberish about...something... Bleah, bleah, bleah? He doesn't know.

Something seems to be up with his ears at the moment...

In the space of a few seconds, confusion is replaced with frustration, which is then replaced with determination...

Mavis, in the midst of trying to explain herself, is abruptly silenced when she is firmly pushed up against the wall and _kissed_...

It was not chaste, nor careful, or even controlled. It was just an awkward, messy meeting of the mouths that she accepts with equal enthusiasm―enthusiasm which is incredibly, heavily disappointed when he just as quickly breaks off the kiss, breathing ragged, "You don't want me to baby you, right? You want me to _rant_, Mavey...?" he asks her hoarsely, almost solemn, ignoring her half-formed protest, a hand cupping the back of her head, the other pressing against her shoulder, thumb stroking the gentle ridge of her clavicle through her shirt, "Okay...yeah, okay, I'll _rant_..."

She's staring wide-eyed, then squeaks when he suddenly picks her up, "Hey!"

"_One_," he starts matter-of-factly, turning about as she awkwardly clutches at his shoulders for support, striding _past_ the counter and towards the doorway of the room, "I'm seriously considering adding 'freaky scary mood swings' to the list of what's going on with you."

"Johnny?!" she protested, partly out of indignation, mostly out of confusion as he ducked slightly to avoid her getting conked by the door frame.

"And _two_," he continued easily, straightening, quickly striding down the short hall, "When we started this trip, struggling for survival was the _last _thing I expected us to be doing. Wasn't even on the list―wasn't on _any _list, so, yeah, I guess that _can_ be kinda stressful. Finding nothing cool whatsoever with our current situation here, except for just being alive and, well, together. Anyway, _three_, I'm still not sure _how _things got so wrong, so, really kinda shakes my faith in my own race, right? Getting way too deep and introspective-y, there. And I...dang it, I _like _people, so this is... Huh."

He stood in front of the room they'd decided to crash in while they were here, staring at the closed door, aware that he had his arms full.

He really wasn't feeling too inclined to empty them.

He cleared his throat, ". . . Can you, um, can you get that, please?"

Stunned, the vampire mutely reaches down to get the doorknob, twisting awkwardly at the waist, blushing. His arms are supporting her, wrapped around her waist and under her thighs while his face was slightly pressed against her neck, under her chin, almost possessively. He walked in, nudging the door open with his foot, hooking his toes on the edge as he walked in to close it behind them. "Thank you. _Four_, I'm worried about our real chances of survival, here, either to travel or even just to eat. I took us out here, I'm _responsible _for this," he resumed bluntly, still holding her while he kicked off his shoes, worked his socks off by stepping on them, not letting her go, and Mavis's fingers were digging nervously into his shoulders, and he kept talking, "I'm scared about it, Mavis. Scared for us, for you, heck, maybe even _of _you. I seriously have _no _clear idea what I'm doing. I mean, y'know, even more than usual, heh, but this is when it's actually going to count. And that really does _suck_..."

His grip loosens enough to lower her until their faces are near level. He looks over her hurt expression, his own softening as he kissed where he could reach, her lower lip, "And Mambo number freaking _five_..." he murmured against her. He gently, carefully let her fall back on the bed in a _floof_ of thin mattress and the almost papery crinkle of hospital sheets, moving to be over her before she could react, no part of him touching her except for where their noses almost brushed, where strands of his wild hair wisped over the skin of her forehead, "I'm a _grown man_, Mavis..." he told her quietly, looking evenly at her deer-in-the-headlights expression, it's adorable, but it's still what it is, stirring mixed feelings in his gut...

Mavis swallows, a dry click in her throat. She can feel the dents he makes in the mattress on either side of her hips and shoulders, the bed is soft and cool with gentle age beneath her back, comforting even with the funny sheet things. The pressure and the presence his body radiates is almost tangible even when the most she can feel is his hair and breath. Goosebumps... She shifts her legs, feeling her feet still slightly graze the floor, but any major movement she made would bring them into contact... She could mist but that'd be...she didn't want to. In the greyish light from the patchy storm outside, he sheds gentle shadows, which are both a comfort and cautioning...

"Y-you're _afraid _of me...?" she asks, feeling that stupid wavering in her voice, and he groans, shaking his head, "No, no, not like that, it's―I _love _you, Mavis, it's just..." His head rests on her shoulder, his own shoulders shifting to make for his weight, "You can't _do_ things like that to me," he continued tiredly, muffled into her shirt, "And then tell me you didn't at least mean _something_ by it... A lot of stuff's happened to you, and I don't know...I don't know how to handle it..."

Her hand absently comes up to comb through the back of his scalp, and it's soothing for the both of them. She just does that for a while, thinking, ". . . So, what, you just shut me out?" she questions, and gently presses in her fingers when he makes to raise his head, keeping him there, "I'm here too, Johnny." she tells him, "I'm hurt, yeah, but I'm still _here_... Don't forget that, okay?" He nods, the stubble on his face grazing her throat, then his mouth is, and she feels her breathing hitch, "And..." she continues hesitantly, dragging her fingertips down through his hair to lightly scrape her nails down the nape of his neck, "Is..._this_...really so bad...?"

She feels him freeze under her touch, and holds her breath when he levers himself up to look at her, eyelids lowered and expression...contemplating...

". . . I honestly don't think we're ready." he said quietly.

She stares up at him, "But then, why―?"

He kissed her, but this one was much gentler, not as desperate, meant to soothe, but she turns her head aside, breaking it to glare at him.

"You bring me here and then you _say_ _that_?" she growled.

"I brought you here to make my point, and I'm doing what you want me to." he told her, looking tired, "I'll take a break, I'll talk, okay?"

She blinks when he rolls over onto his side, hitting the mattress with a _thud _that makes her bounce slightly.

His shadows are gone, and the room is grey, but he's warm beside her.

". . . See?" he asks, when she stares at the ceiling, and this time his voice is a little wry, but warmer, "Doesn't feel good."

She blinks again, then snarls, the moment broken, "You _jerk_."

He sits up when she storms up the wall, immediately apologizing, "No, wait, hey, _Mavis_..."

"You are _frustrating me_, Johnny," she snaps, pacing the ceiling.

"You only look at me and don't tell me anything and we dance around each other and frankly it's getting pret-ty old."

She rubs her forehead, her face, before glaring at him, "What's it gonna take for you to cut the crap?" she asks bluntly.

"I can't be the princess of the hotel anymore, obviously."

Jonathan was agape, "I never said that―"

"I want to learn _what I can expect_." she said, interrupting him, "I want...I want to be in the know, Johnny. I don't want you to deal with all this by yourself." She sat on the ceiling, out of reach, crossing her arms over her crossed knees to watch him, "So just let me in already. I'm tired of arguing."

". . . It might involve arguing..." he warns.

She shrugs, "We'll work something out." she decides.

He slightly scowls, "Could we talk down here?"

"Nope," she says bluntly, "You'll distract me, and then we'll _really_ have to talk about...that..."

That makes him pause, then snicker, "Pot, kettle?" he quips.

They both laugh a little at that, and then settle down to talk seriously, putting aside the things personal in favor of the things survival.

"Hey... You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah. I love you, too..."

And they do argue, so much that it's a slightly bitter party that observes the clearest sky they'd yet to see the next day, and prepares to pack out...


	8. Caustic (Part 2)

Jonathan was combing the back rooms of the clinic for extra supplies they could get, but largely he was doing this to give her space.

Mavis was doing the same thing, making a point to do it at the _other _side of the building...

Their departure was going to be slightly delayed...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

_"Rejected. Nope. Nuh-uh."__  
_

_"Mavis, c'mon it's―"_

_"It's **stupid**. Johnny, I **told **you, I'm **fine**. We can keep it to the forty-eight hour―"_

_"Oh, you're fine? So what was all that staring at the stuff then?"_

_"I was just **thinking**, what, it's suddenly weird if I do that?"_

_"It is if your eyes go into 'hungry mode'―"_

_"Oh, and we're criticizing my **eye**__**s**,__ now__!__ Fantastic..."_

_"You know that's not what I meant. Why won't you―?" __"A **cup **a **day **when we only have, ooh, let's see, 'sixteen cups left'? Ah-h, wait, now it's **fourteen**. We can double that time just fine, Johnny, seriously... We can make twenty-eight days."_

_"But I don't want you to―"_

_"Then what would we do after those **two weeks**, huh?__ **Tell **me. __You said it yourself. If we have to walk the coast, it might at least be another month..."_

_". . . Well, we could always..."_

_"I can **hunt**, Johnny. I've got the wings, remember? I don't see why we can't tighten the belt, here..."_

_"It's―. . ."_

_". . . What? . . . It's what, Johnny? It's too risky to stint a little? I'm a risk? Is that what you're saying?"_

_"No, Mavis, I―"_

_"Please, Johnny... If it comes to it I can live for a while as a bat, alright?"_

_"You're not letting me talk! I don't want you to **starve** yourself! You could barely **wake** **up** earlier, Mavis! We don't know how strong you're gonna be to―"_

_"I! Am! **FINE**!" she roared, and then made to change, as if to prove it, or maybe just to get away, he didn't remember now..._

_He remembered though that this would be the first time she'd changed since her wounding from the Fallout._

_There is the sound of the rush of air when she transforms, but there was another disturbing after-note, almost like a **ripping** sound..._

_The bat flutters erratically, Johnny not quite processing as little dark droplets fly from her wings. Then it clicks._

_The injuries of one form will transfer into the other..._

_And with her back, and its **skin**..._

_". . . Mavis?" he asks worriedly, looking up at her, but the bat doesn't answer. Flapping jerkily, she quickly spirals and starts attempting to fly around the room, nearly falling at times, almost slamming herself against the walls, scraping, leaving streaked reddish smears along the wallpaper in her wake... A faint, garbled keen started to rise from her, sounding too much like a bat, yet not enough like one..._

_"Mavis?!"_

_He chases after the little dark form as she wings down the hall, breath caught in his throat, fear choking it, "No, wait!"_

_She makes to swoop into a doorway, but misjudges, slamming herself into its frame with a **shpak!**―another splatter of red. He catches her before she can hit the floor, but a fresh wave of fear sets in when he nearly drops her, instinctively cringing from the feel of the warm, sticky fur and the small, spasming body. A quiet, panicked scream seethes through his teeth as he feels the weight of the blood-slickened form cupped in his hands, wide eyes seeing the big **strip** of glistening pinkish red skin amidst the fur of her back..._

_She's too small, too delicate, he doesn't know how to take care of bats, he doesn't―not again, no, not again! No! No! No...!_

_"Ch-change back, Mavis..." he manages, shakily sitting down to hold her nearer, "Mavis? Hey, please, you gotta change back, I can't―..."_

_Another rush of air, another stomach-turning **sh-r-rip**..._**  
**

_Now he holds a girl in his arms instead of a bat in his hands, her own hands fisting into his shirt, her head aggressively burrowing into his shoulder as she twitched, frantically curling her body, trembling, jerking, but above all other things silent. He feels that the back of her shirt is sticky, her breathing is in catching bursts._

_He moves enough to be able to see what he can of her face. No... It's not that she was silent. Her face was in a snarl against the pain, tears tracking down her face, blood faintly trailing from a gash near her temple, eyes shut tight as her mouth was open in a scream too strained to actually come out. She inhales in a gasp, eyes shooting open when she tries to stand, and her eyes are glassy, the pupils were pinpoints..._

_Her fangs seemed longer, more pronounced..._

_Johnny's quick to support her, shouldering her back to the room where they keep the Blood Beaters, the stuff heals...can she drink? The quarts? If he finds a cup, she might spill but, no time―her cries are finally coming out, shocked whimpers that stab at something in his chest._

_"**OhmyGAH-huh-h**..."_

_"Hangonhangonhangonit'sokayit'sgonnabeokay..." he rambles, she sounds like she's hyperventilating, blood heals, he gets at the IV bags first and holds one up, freezing up. How does he use this to―? __She solves the problem for him, taking it from him and piercing her fangs right through the plastic...  
_

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

He'd only been able to hold her up while she'd drained the thing dry, only able to watch. Her fangs hadn't just punctured, but in her desperation they slightly tore a full rip into the bag. Her mouth had closed over the opening to seal it while she steadily drank, swallowing heavily. From what he could see, her eyes had been half-lidded and distant... She wouldn't look at him, even after she'd drained all the Blood Beaters and air from it, even as she wiped her mouth and eyes while he threw the remains of the bag away. He'd glanced at her back, saw the dark dampness of the fabric that wasn't caused by water, saw the miserable hunching of her shoulders, their rigidness. He swallowed, glancing at the roll of bandages, "We'll need to..." he began, reaching for them.

"It's _fine_..." she snapped quietly without looking around, making him pause.

"I-It's..." Her hand tore agitatedly at her hair, "I'm sorry, it's-it's _fine_, I'll...I'll take care of it..."

She turns around, moving quickly to the counter without looking at him to snag the bandages, and before he can think his hand gently grabs her wrist.

"Mavis, are you―"

"_I said I'll take care of it!_" she snarled at him, yanking her arm back, and he flinched.

She froze, eyes wide and darting over his face as they stood there, stunned in their places.

"I..." she began quietly, "I-I can't _fly_..." she said helplessly, "I can't..."

Then she gritted her teeth, shaking her head, grinding her palm into her forehead, near the healing bruise, "No. I'm sorry, I'm...gonna go...this..."

"Mavis..." he tried again, and got another wounded glare, one that almost looked like it was watering.

". . . Just let me take care of it, Johnny. Leave me be." was the bitten-out reply.

Johnny stared as she stormed back out of the room, she already tearing at the hem of her own shirt.

He stood there for a moment, the only sound the patter of rain outside and the distant sound of the doors she closes behind her.

". . . Well..." he muttered quietly, "Alright, then..."

And so, he was 'leaving her be'...

. . .

_Twelve cups left now, Johnny... Twelve days?_

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Ooh, this hu-urts-s-s-s...

She was pacing the ceiling while winding the bandage 'round and 'round her waist, feeling it rub and tighten against the raw skin of her back. She'd lost skin off of fingers and knees before, off palms, but _this_...this was _bad_, even the feeling of air on it was agonizing, a _stinging burning abrasion all over her back_.

Holding back tears, holding back swearing, holding back smashing something heavy through the freaking wall...

It's awkward running the bandages around her chest, and she blushes a little, wondering what it'd been like for him, doing this, seeing..._this_... Had he been okay with it? Honestly she couldn't remember much immediately after waking up, just that she was alive, and he was okay...

Urgh, focus, Mavis...

Still, it's like this was somehow _worse _than the burn...

And it kind of was, but not just because of the really, really, _really _intense pain, not just because she can't fly...

She rubbed furiously at her eyes, seething. She'd messed up, she'd _stupidly _messed up, stupidly made things worse, and just as stupidly _proved his point_...?!

That was...that was scary, that was painful, disorienting, that was _humiliating._ On top of wounded pride she couldn't forget the feeling of sinking her teeth into something...

Hold back tears, hold back swearing, hold back thirst that itched her fangs...

She finished up the wrapping, the pain lessening now that less of anything would brush against the raw wound, thinking...

Biting into that bag thing had been...different from drinking from some carton.

Must've been something in actually using the _teeth_...

She absently touched a fang with her fingertip, shivers running up her spine at the faint sensation felt through her enamel...

Then she blinked, and spat, snarling, kicking her foot against one of the light fixtures, cracking the casing. Useless! Stupid! Weak freaking..._princess! GRAH!_

She rubbed at her face again, feeling the slightly irritating roughness of dried tears on skin, grimacing to herself... She'd messed up...

She went to a corner and sat down, leaning her head against the wall to gaze up at the floor...

Leaving like that... What would he think of her now, huh? Shaking her head to herself, she got up, pulling on the shirt over the bandages, and started searching for things to take with them. And in the meantime, search for a way to make a good comeback, probably with an apology, depending on how things shape up...

No time to bandage wounded pride...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

The next time they face each other it's...awkward.

He wants to ask how she is, but remembers with some bitterness her hostility, and refrains, trying to judge by what he can see. She looks tired.

He instead just tells her the status of what they have, a brief outline of what they can do.

She wants to apologize, but at his slight brusqueness she balks, feeling some of the old hurt anger rising again, and decides to keep her reserve.

They are tired.

They find empty water jugs, using the Bunsen burner (which they pack to keep) to boil and sterilize some water to take with them. They find more salvageable foodstuffs in the staff lounge: pop tarts, granola bars, fruit drink mixes, packages of instant ramen that they can cook for the calories. In a children's section of the clinic they even find packages of lollipops and gummy bears, pure calories and sugars. Something tugs at both their hearts when they see some toys still scattered around, as if the ones who'd played with them had only just left...

Mavis, quietly curious, turns a little toy truck over in her hand, studying the little smudgy fingerprints on its bright red plastic... She sees a toy unicorn-thing propped up in the corner, and blinked, remembering playing with one herself. This one has that plastic stuff for the handle, though, and the head looks...plushier, and very pink, with hearts on it. It's cute, even while it collects cobwebs...

Johnny doesn't touch, but he looks at a couple of action figures discarded on the floor; he remembers playing with similar ones back when he was a kid. These looked like they'd been fighting, or maybe having some diplomatic discussion over a tea party, who knew with kids? He wondered which one had won. Maybe the green one, he looked like a good guy...

They find things that hurt, making somber memories for them before they leave. Offices with family photos still on the desks, a note to a co-worker talking about some highschool reunion party that would've happened a few days ago. A note that someone's going to pick up their child, so they wouldn't have been able to come in that day. A bulletin board with celebratory photos of 'success stories', a few other photos laid out on the desk underneath, still waiting to be pinned up. In one drawer, Johnny finds a box with what looked like an engagement ring, and the picture of a couple, 'Julia' and 'Filip'...

. . .

He closes the drawer, silently wishing that couple well, wherever they were, feeling strange inside, leaving 'Filip's' office, feeling like he'd seen something he shouldn't have. He doesn't tell Mavis about Filip. She looked like she was still feeling sad from the thought of the children...

They are tired.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

They head out East, towards the ocean. Hopefully they might still find docks that would be running, or at least have a boat they could use. The night is cold, and the air still has a strange quality to it. They are wrapped head to toe in spare things to cover their noses and mouths, and protect their skin, and feel fortunate that they can travel in these things when it's cooler.

They still don't talk much.

Mavis's weariness starts to show. Johnny glances at her, hearing the harshness of her breath through the cloth, and in a moment of fancy considers trekking harder, wearing her down and getting her to maybe finally pace herself and listen to him. But then he sees her eyes, their narrowness, the lines under them, the determination, and stops himself, self-chastised. He couldn't do that to her. Instead, he carefully lightens his pace, keeping it steady, but enough that it would be easier on her. He feels her look at him, but she's quiet.

Still, he feels her hand maybe accidentally brush against his arm through his jacket, a brief pressure of her shoulder, and smiles to himself.

It is strange, being in an urban area so...empty...was disquieting. The only sounds were their boots on the pavement and the rustling of the wind, though Johnny was always hearing some faint humming in the background, and kept trying to discreetly look around for the source of the noise. Did Mavis not hear it?

It was disquieting but in its way...pretty.

With most of the lights of houses and street lamps being out, the stars are easier to see, even through the clouds. No moon tonight. The peace after war? Johnny recalls the abandoned children's toys and thinks, no, this wasn't the peace. Just the time between getting the wound and licking it...

He blinks when there's a change in the background noise, something that he can actually pinpoint.

Hesitantly, he stops, and Mavis looks at him, confused.

"You okay?" she asks, as his body posture reads focus. He nodded and turned his head, testing the range.

"Do you hear that?" he asks, and after a moment of listening, Mavis shakes her head, turning slightly worried.

"Johnny, are you―?"

"Can you," he interrupts, pointing vaguely, "Can you do your 'scanning' thing, that way? Please?"

She blinks, and looks in that direction, uncertain, "It'll be tricky..." she admits.

That surprises him, "But you found me...?" he questions, and she's grateful he doesn't have good night eyes, as she blushes.

"I can always find you, Johnny..." she muttered quietly, and focused her vision before he could process what she'd told him.

Her eyes are an icy blue as she searches, intent...

It's hard, with an uncertain range or target. Stress wrinkles her forehead and strains her eyes before she blinks, finding it.

"Humans..." she uttered, blinking again to clear her head.

"Wh―woah. Really? Wait, are they military?" Jonathan asks, his head aching faintly with the memory of a rifle stock to his head.

"No," Mavis replied, surprised giddiness leaking into her voice, "_Humans_...!"

All grudges momentarily forgotten, they race in the direction that Mavis had seen, indescribable relief giving new strength to their weary legs...


	9. Blind Man's Bluff

"/Hi, I'm Jonathan,/" he says brightly, Mavis watching warily from the shadows, "/_A-a-and_ that's a gun. It's a very _cool-looking_ gun. Why couldn't _I_ find one? Man.../"

"/Thank you./" the older man replied evenly, looking to be in his sixties or so. The gun in question was leveled right between Jonathan's eyes.

"/Frankly, I think it's _way_ too early to be dealing with a strange trespasser. So, you have thirty seconds to tell me why I shouldn't _use_ this gun.../"

Johnny took a breath, stammering over the Swedish, "/Because I don't mean any harm and I'm unarmed and it's really, really awesome to finally find another person who is at least gonna ask before he starts bashing heads in and getting shot would really kind of put a bit of a downer on the moment after all we've been through and my friend would also find a way to resurrect and kill me again if I die on her which I don't wanna have to put her through for both our sakes,/" he took a breath, "/So, that's largely a personal thing, but, yeah, I come in peace and stuff.../"

The man blinked slowly, then grinned, but didn't lower the gun, "/Good talk. Good enough, I suppose. Took...forty seconds, but I will let it slide. You mention a friend?/"

Now the old man observed the younger one swallow, his eyes darting back towards the shadows.

"/Wait,/" Johnny protested before the man could look, "/She's...she can't speak Swedish./"

"Français?" the man asks, and Johnny shakes his head, "No. English, um, and some Romanian." he explains.

The man shrugs, "We know English." he concedes, but still isn't lowering the gun, "It is rude of your 'friend' to not introduce you, young lady." he calls out.

. . .

The vampire steps uncertainly from the shadows, eyes bright and near glowing as she observes the man...

"Hi. I'm Mavis." she says, waving, remembering how Johnny told her that actually calling a human a 'human' made them uncomfortable.

"Please, don't shoot him," she continues, eyes narrowing on the gun, "I'd kind of miss him."

For a moment they all stared.

The old man smirked wryly, and finally let his finger off the trigger of the shotgun, resetting the safety catch, ". . . Well...hard to refuse polite asking." he chuckles, letting the rifle swing back along its harness to his back, looking tiredly amused as he watched the couple visibly relax. "It's hard to be trustworthy these days," he explained, "Especially at..." he checks a grimy watch, "5 in the a.m. Name's Avril. Where you from, and what's your business?"

"We're...traveling..." Jonathan explained, as Mavis stood near him, she still eyeing the gun. "We were in...―――, I think, when it hit."

"It is a bad time for foreigners." Avril agreed, eyeing them. "Another took out most of the airports in ―――, if that was where you two were heading." he added, "And more transport-based places out in the other areas, or so rumors are going."

"There was _more than one...?_"

The older man shrugged again, wearily, "I don't know. I do not want to. Anyway, if you want a plane, you're out of luck."

Jonathan shook his head, "We're heading seaside, to the Baltic," he replied, "To see if any docks are still operating, or at least find a boat..."

That made the old man laugh, "_Better_ luck, but still not much."

"There are more of you." Mavis suddenly commented, and Jonathan froze.

Avril scrutinized the girl, ". . . Yes, there is." he admitted shrewdly, thinking she'd asked a question. "Which means we can't afford to share."

Jonathan blinked, "Are you guys short on stuff?" he asked, and Avril frowned, uncomprehending.

"/Are you low on things?/" Johnny repeated.

The frown deepened into a scowl, "We are fi―"

"/Dad?/"

The couple blinked, Avril's scowl turning into a glower when a younger man trotted out of darkness.

"/_Mother_ _of_—you wander off and—Dad, are you―?/" The younger man noticed them "/. . . What? Aw, _no_, you told me you weren't going to do this again.../"

Mavis watched in bemusement, unable to understand, and Johnny only slightly more so, and he was the one who actually knew the language.

"/They were heading right to the _camp_./" Avril protested, rounding on to who Johnny presumed was his son.

"/They were―? Oh, just _please_ tell me you didn't aim the gun at them...?/"

"/I wasn't actually going to _shoot_ him.../"

"/You put up a very convincing act, man./" Johnny thought to compliment, and believe it or not actually meant well.

"/_You_ stay out of this, trespasser./" the old man hissed at him.

Avril's son palmed his face.

Mavis watched the exchange, confused.

For a while they stood there under the murky starlight, the sky turning light at the horizon.

". . . Can we see _more_ of them...?" Mavis asked Johnny excitedly, but politely quiet, so only he could hear.

Avril scowled at the hopeful faces those two gave him.

"We have—we got a Bunsen burner thing, runs on batteries, we could help you boil some water or something. We have some extra food, too." Johnny offered.

"Of _course_," the son interjected before the father could, a smile plastered on his face, "Sorry for the, er, the bad welcome. Always a good thing to see survivors. We're this way."

The two walk ahead of Mavis and Johnny, he not being able to help listening in. They probably thought they were out of earshot, but...

"/'Welcome'?/" Avril muttered sourly.

"/_Dad_.../"

"/It is too early for this. Lucky they aren't shadows. But we take in any more we'll start taking them all, and how will we take care of them, I wonder.../"

"/They're not military and they look capable. They have to be if they lasted through all that shit out there. We have plenty of room. They're people, not pets./"

"/. . . That right there, that pet comment? That is what you said about your turtles, once, and look how _they_ ended up.../"

"/Oh-h, for the love of―/"

"/Just saying.../"

"/For the last time, I was _nine_, you _paranoid old―!_/"

Johnny wouldn't translate the conversation on the way for Mavis. Too many unknown expletives.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"Honestly, surprised you've made it this far, from where you were..." Avril's son, Elliot, commented.

Mavis was, of course, asking questions about Avril's gun, walking ahead.

"We're used to traveling," Johnny offered, smiling a bit wistfully, "We, uh, kinda _were _traveling..."

Elliot blinked, "Oh... I'm sorry."

Jonathan shook his head, smiling as Mavis continued to gently pester Avril, "I'm just glad we're okay." Mostly.

He looked at Elliot, "So, how're you all the way out here? Is there, like, some kinda base out here or what?"

"No," the man replied, "Well, yes, but Dad and I made it. Our family, we tried evacuating, but...things happen, right? The military men are all focused elsewhere, no time for civilians except to get them out of the way; so we got out of the way, out here. Better than some damn refugee hostel, that's for sure. But strange stuff has been going on... Have you run into the shadows, yet?"

"Shadows?"

"Eh... You don't know. Odd. I hope you won't _learn_ but...they're..._bad_ things: they took a lot of the people here before the rest wised up. The shadows started showing up after the attacks started, really kind of a bad feeling... Just don't...oh..."

Johnny looked up to see that they actually couldn't see Avril and Mavis any more. It was kind of freaky.

"Mavis...?" he called out.

Elliot called out for his father a few times, but they only got a strange, stifling silence.

The man swore, taking a handgun out from under his jacket, "/_Mother—!/ _Okay, uh, Jonathan?" he turned to the younger man, slightly frantic, "Crash course on shadows. Whatever you do, keep me in sight, _don't _trust voices, and-and don't go into any dark places alone, alright? /_DAD?!/_"

"But what are—. . .? How does everyone _else_ here get guns?" Johnny growled to himself, nervously running along with Elliot, "_Mavis?! DA—_no, wait_—Avril?!_"

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"/Their fault for not keeping up.../" Mavis heard Avril mutter. She couldn't hear Johnny, and the darkness was hard to look into. It made her edgy. "/Dammit, I could swear that street went.../ Girl," she blinked when the human looked at her, "Your boy, he's not the violent type, is he?"

Mavis shook her head quickly, briefly pleased that he called him 'hers', "No way. He likes to avoid that."

"Should buy time..." the old human said, apparently to himself, "Bad to get caught with strangers, but..."

"What is going on?" Mavis asks slowly, scanning the darkness. Why couldn't she _find Johnny? _

"The shadows' hunt, girl, that is what. Thought we'd be safe with morning." Avril grumbled, and she started back a little when he took up his gun. "/Hard to trust.../" he glanced at her, noticing her tension, her staring at his gun, and scowled, "Girl, first off, this is _not_ for you. This is for whatever is out—" he gestured to the darkness, "—_there_. I might bluff, but I haven't really shot a human, so rest at ease for that. Come on, we'll try to meet them along the way to camp." She blinks, and nods carefully, and they walk for a while before he clears his throat, "Uh, beside me, please. You being back there makes me uneasy."

"Don't worry," she said, doing so, taking a moment to grin at her joke, "I haven't hurt a human, either."

"Assuring." he replied flatly, unamused. "You're young, still, girl. What, 17, 18? Don't kid about these things."

Mavis was carefully quiet in response to that.

_It comes down with great hatred on those who don't follow the roles of which It deems them worthy... _

Mavis looked at him, "What?"

Avril looked at her, "I didn't say anyth—oh, hell, they move fast. Okay, ignore the voices, and stay close."

She did, but in the silence, thoughts began to run through her head, and she found herself staring at the man's gun.

_Johnny doesn't have a gun, does he?_

She frowned.

_He might need one. Who's to say the other human doesn't have one?_

_Need guns to fight guns, or it's...another rifle's stock to his skull..._

Her uneasiness grew, the more she thought about it. The memory of that helplessness, that they could only kneel on the ground, hands on their heads, while he bled...

_Who's to say these humans are any different? Why did they separate you? Bad feeling._

Her frown deepened, she felt her eyes try to widen to take in more light.

Maybe she could just ask to borrow the gun...

_And eat him._

She blinked, and then abruptly shook her head. _That _thought _wasn't hers!_

Now she felt it, faint wisps of coolness against her back, and she hears the human beside her, "Don't look. You won't see anything, and they like to attack confusion."

"H-how...?" she asked, feeling her fangs ache uncomfortably in her mouth. She wanted to bite something, maybe whatever that thing was behind her.

"I don't know how. Felt like attacking me, right?"

She nodded, and then glanced at him, "Did you?"

"Eh, I felt suspicious, but I knew what to expect. I'm...sorry. Just tune 'em out, it'll get better, you'll see. At least these aren't the aggressive ones."

"There are worse?" she wondered.

"Oh, yeah. The _hungry _ones."

_Kinda feeling hungry right now... Johnny has the food. Where's Johnny?_

_Isn't that him, over there?_

She glances to the side, and does see movement...right?

"Mavis?!" she hears him yell, and she makes to start forward, but stops.

She was told to ignore the voices but...this one was his...

"Hey, Mavis, you out there? Mavis?!"

She's frozen, hearing him call out again.

"_Mavis?!_"

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"J-Johnny...?" he finally hears her answer, and relief is instant, but he's nervous, she sounds scared.

"Hey, I hear her." he tells Elliot, but is surprised when the man takes his shoulder before he can move, "I said don't trust voices." the guy warns. "_I_ don't hear her."

This made Jonathan pause.

. . .

_He could be lying._

"Johnny, th-that's you, right...?" he hears her again, and his body buzzes with the need to get to her, to make sure she's okay.

_They split you up so quickly, they took you along so quickly. They want to get to her._

_Such a convenient story, 'shadows'..._

_Doesn't she sound scared?_

_And you with no gun..._

_. . ._

"Johnny, please, this isn't funny..." he hears her sob.

. . .

"You can't tell me you don't hear that..." Jonathan said shakily, and Elliot's looking at him more now. "No," the man said, now sounding wary, "No, kid, seriously, don't listen. That's how they get to y—" "How do you know?" he interrupted, edging back towards where he heard Mavis, "She's with a stranger and she's _sick_, and...and this all happened kinda quickly, huh?"

"Kid—_Jonathan_..." the man warned, and Johnny watched how he handled the gun. "I'm not the enemy here, believe me. They use that...that paranoia. D-don't go there, please, you won't do her any favors, I _know_..."

Jonathan glanced at the gun, then at the face of Elliot, and saw the anxiety.

_He doesn't want you to go. He doesn't want you to save her. Don't you hear her crying? _

But the guy did look genuinely scared...

"I'm sorry..." Johnny said hoarsely, resolute as he heard her calling him again, her voice cracked and in pain, "I can't just _ignore _this..."

He turns and runs, fear for her overpowering the fear of knowing a gunman was behind his back.

_"JONATHAN!" _Elliot roars, raising the gun.

The sound of it blasts into the dusk.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

_It is vigilant in Its vengeance,_ she hears, _Patient in Its pursuit, and holds no reserve nor bias to follow what blood It seeks, no matter where the blood did trickle..._

"'Scuse me?" she mutters, that voice that sounded seperate from her thoughts, from Jonathan's voice.

_Another trick, another trick, don't listen, don't you hear your human call? _

"Shut up..." she snarls at her brain, at the darkness, and Avril is turning to her.

". . . You alright?" he asks quietly, and once more her attention is drawn to the gun.

_He plays with you, he knows what you hear. Get him before he gets you. GET HIM BEFORE HE GETS YOU._

_No, pay no heed to their provokings, you **hear **this one, lady?_

"I'm fine." she mumbles, trying to look at the darkness, to trace that new voice that wasn't quite one, "I-I think I heard Johnny..."

_No, you **do **hear this one, oh, do not shut this one out, please! This one can help you, this one can...can help you save your boy... _

"I...don't hear anything." Avril said cautiously, and she backs up slightly when he adjusted the gun in his grip, and he sees this, and he grimaces, "I'm sorry, girl, please, it's alright, just ignore them—ignore that voice, it's not him you're hearing."

_Please, lady, this one—I—I can help, those who wrong you would take of him, they are taking of him, and I know where! Hurry before he is lost!_

"It's not him," she agrees, surprising him, but her eyes are narrow, and she's glaring over her shoulder, "I'll be right back." she tells him, and then runs off into the shadows. Avril stares, stunned, and then swears, "/_No—not agai—that doesn't mean you, oh, damn this all to/—wait, GIRL?!_"

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Johnny's surprised when the shots fly wide, and something sounds shrill in the dark, but Mavis's crying increases, a frightened shriek, and he grits his teeth. He has no time for the man, he has to get to Mavis. "Mavis?!" he calls out again.

"Th-this way, please, hurry..."

He follows her cries, her pleading, his breath caught in his throat and his heart pounding in his chest. There are twists and turns, echoes and anxiety. He rounds a corner, and searches, and suddenly everything is quiet. He stands there, the distant light of street lamps at his back.

She would go to the darker places, those are safer for her, right...?

"Mavis...?" he asked, and then blinked as something shifted in the darkness, and now he understands...

_Oh_...

_Oh no_...

". . . You're not Mavis..." he mutters simply, frozen.

The suggestion of a leer, of many faces oozes from the shadows, and then all goes dark.

"_Thank you for finding me, Johnny..._"

_Thank you for finding **us**..._


	10. Sweet Victory?

"Explain it to me. What are these things?" she pants, the running tearing at the skin of her back, a tearing, ripping, stinging sensation that she steels from and ignores as she follows that suggestion of shadow, it _was _a shadow, and following it was kind of like following Griffin's glasses around the hotel, and again she hears that strange not-voice in her brain.

_They are shadows, **Its** shadows, that herald Its presence here, hopeless wraiths, pitiful things; aren't even ghosts, so thin is their existence... _

"Are they...they aren't monsters, are they? I've never seen them..." she asks, choking a bit on air as she runs up a wall to follow, seeing its shape race on the brickwork.

_They are...monstrosities... _it replies, _Parasites, mimickers, figments manifest, hungry without stomachs to want or to fill, they ARE shadows... Resistance and knowledge of their machination by those you'd met had dulled them to an idling that was quick broken by you and your boy's arrival. Ironic, eh? Heh-heh._

"And _you_?" she snarls quietly, reaching out with a hand to touch the shadow.

And to her surprise she pins it with the barest pressure. It silently writhes and snaps under her fingertips, surreal, and she thinks she sees the dark shape of a hand ghost over her own, grasp over it like trying to tug it away, feeling like nothing more than a cooling of air.

"What _are _you?" she mutters, slightly shocked.

_Uncomfortable?_ it mutters reproachfully, _And I am...I am myself, different, I am not of them. **I**, at least, was cast by flesh than by fear! **I** am not of Its creation! But please, I do not mislead you,__ Preserver__ lady. I seek no flesh nor feeling, I seek to help and be helped... But quick, loose me, your boy waits!_

"What do you want then?" she continues to ask, releasing it, and it wavered unsteadily before racing on, and she can see its outline better now, looking like a person's silhouette, outstretched...

_I want to be reunited with he who cast me, _it mutters softly, _He who I had been torn from most cruelly before I had chance to follow._

_My condition is simple, lady, but necessary. Let me take your boy's shadow._

There is a moment of silence as they move on, shadows in the dusk, one literally, one poetically.

". . . That sounds like it could be a bad thing..." Mavis commented bluntly.

_It is unusual, yes,_ it says slowly,_ Perhaps unconventional but—below!_

She snaps her gaze down into the alleyway they were passing over, where she sees some writhing..._mass_...

At first it looks oily, a car-sized _thing_ mounded like some sort of strange black jelly, almost solid, almost not, but... It moves, pulses, pulsates, and she sees what look like the imprints of hands and faces press and disappear from inside, showing many expressions, many sizes, but many grin, and gape, and leer... It whispers, murmurs, mutters, and more bits from around the area congregate to stick themselves to this mass... And stuck to the outside of it, nearly sinking into it is..._Johnny_...

She feels acid rise in her throat to spread on her tongue, as, even when tendrils and webs of the thing are covering him, slipping into and under his skin like intrusive veins, he _looks _at her. He strains to turn his head, bits of the stuff snapping and stretching from the skin on the side of his face, before another pulsing renews it, smooth and swift enough that he doesn't even bleed...

"'vis...?" she hears, a voice hoarse and haggard, and she chokes when the stuff is starting to take one of his _eyes, darkness_ sneaking its tendrils in through the socket, through the eyelid to grow _into_ it like a bizarre fungus that throbs like something beats inside... He grins tiredly, tears leaking from the untouched eye, a corner of his mouth spasming where more of the shadow is tugging at his facial muscles, "Oh, he-ey, there's you, if...if tha's _you_... Heh, uhm, this? Yeah, my bad, s'ry..." Then his head snaps to another angle, quick and near unnatural, the grin widening and more vicious, more 'sweet', and the next time he speaks it is from between his teeth, and the mass pulses in time, the faces in it mouthing in sync, "Mavis, you're _here!_ Quick, I need _help_, please! _I_ am _scared!_ _You_ can _sa-ave_ me-e-e!" he cackles. His head falls back onto the mass, laughter dying into a grimace, "Nope, no-no-no-no-no, don't hel', no, g'way, g'way, nope Mav run..."

_Oh-h, they are confused. Interesting. T__hey'd usually be done in **minutes**,_ she hears faintly. Air is hissing between her teeth, as she's frozen on the wall.

_Apparently he is not an easy eating, hah! And you...you can't yet be called 'prey', can you, __Preserver __lady...? . . . __Preserver l__ady?_

She is walking slowly down the wall, eyes fixed on the mass and the human it's trying to dissolve, pupils mere slits in shining azure scleras...

_Wait, wait, lady, wait, to provoke them now would—!_

"He. Is. _Mine_." she snarls, stalking up to the edge of it, and the edge meets her foot, feeling cool, soft, and then slimy and sharp when it oozes over the edge to get into her shoe. She wrenches her foot away, shaking it off, seeing a few tendrils wriggle uselessly from where they were embedded in her skin. She yanks them out, feeling it slip out easy as anything, and crushes them, seeing the viscous fluid trickle out, becoming watery and 'dead-feeling'.

"_HE. IS. **MINE**._" she roars, claws _tzinging _from her fingertips as she gouges her hands into the mass, and it's _weird_. The stuff near Johnny hisses and spurts with dark, thin fluid, while the edges soften and puddle to ooze into air. She grasps fistfuls of the stuff and tugs it away with a growl, seeing the tendrils snap and spray, and then she does it again, gathering her hands in around the mass that coalesced around her human, and _experimented_...

The stuff nearest to him was the strongest, but the most solid, easy to rip or slice or tear or _bite _away, while the stuff at the edges was the most intrusive, the stuff designed to slip into flesh and flesh alone, and these parts she crushes underneath her boots, squelching, feeling it give beneath much like rotted flesh, like a jelly that nearly makes her slip, the ground becoming slick with its oozing... She pants, growling, tearing, sobbing, swearing, mine, _mine_, _MINE!_ The air is beginning to rise with the thing's shrieks and pleads as she rips into it, using the ghostly voices, the wails and cries of women, men, children, babies, begging her to stop she's hurting the family she's hurting them please spare them where's mama help stop spare the children no please please no she's hurting Johnny she's killing killing monster stop lady stop murderess murderess monster _murderess MURDERER MURDEROUS **MONSTER!**_

**_"GIVE ME WHAT IS MINE!"_** she screams at it in return, plunging a fist into a wailing face, and it gives as easily as thick jelly, even when it chills and tries to coat her skin, slipping uneasily from her body's coolness, and she feels the cooling of air at her back.

_Much that such blind love is touching, your efforts will be for naught if you don't let me **in**__, lady, _it whispers to her, _I know now why he is not such easy food, and such is the reason that it even prevents me to interfere on my own power. To help, I require entrance that only you can grant, lady. Kiss him, and say 'grant it', and I may then help..._

"_Kiss _him?" she repeats incredulously, slicing away a tendril that tried to snake at her face, and she tries to tug him again from the mass, but it just held him in.

"_Now?_ _What?!_"

_A kiss is **everything** in these matters..._ it murmurs, and she feels it watching her struggle._ Why not liken it to 'Sleeping Beauty', hm? _it suggests, _In this particular circumstance, though, I would put it as 'Stupid Bastard'... I would explain, but, are we not to make haste? Kiss the boy, save the day, tra-la-la?_

The surrealism of it all makes her giggle, nervous, jerkily shrugging, "Alright, then!" she says, desperately bright, "Can't get any freaking _worse!_"

_You'd be surprised how inventive **It** can be... _it says idly, and she feels it against her back as she clamber-crawls her way on top of the mass to kneel over Johnny, her knees nearly sinking into the giving essence, tuning out the mass' gibbering. She sees half of his face, still holding out from the rest of this stuff, and as gently as she can, with shaky hands, angles his face, seeing his eye crack open blearily at her, the iris darting slowly, trying to focus, and she can nearly see some of the stuff pulsing in his _mouth_ from where it had burrowed in through his cheek... Caught halfway between a gag and a sob, she lunges forward, a breath away, "G-grant it..." she says shakily, feeling his shallow breath against her face, smelling like blood and something like river water.

_Yes... _she hears.

She kisses him, tasting something vile and something wonderful, something disgustingly alien and something breakingly natural...

"_Grant it...!_" she murmurs into his mouth, a desperate hiss, and feels the coolness rush from her back, through her mouth, and into him, as the mass is closing up her legs and nearly to her hips, and she kisses him again, feeling hopeless as she absently tries to escape, but she's stuck, and feels it starting to bore into her skin, monster, monster, monster...

And then...she feels his mouth turn up at the corners, his teeth baring against her lips, she sees his eye widening, the color of the iris turning from its earthy brown to a bright, sharp, wild yellow-green. _"OH, YEEES..." he_ says breathlessly into her mouth, and it's his voice, but...it's not _him_...

In the midst of the mass, she feels hands; warm, human hands grab her hips and push her up.

"_Oh-h-h, what **fools** these shadows **BE**!_" is what she hears it laugh when she is pushed out of the mass to tumble to the ground, frantically crawling back on her rear, not daring to look away as the whole thing writhes, Johnny-who-wasn't-Johnny sitting up from it, scraping the stuff from his—its?—face and body, laughing like a madman.

"Oh, lovely, lovely lady, I owe you much and more!" it—_he_ chuckles, black ichor trickling from his lips and eye and other places those shadows had invaded the body, speech strange with Johnny's voice, bright green eye rolling at her, one hand seemingly absently clenching into the other socket to _rip_ out the infesting shadows with a visceral _sqlrrch!_—an action that surprisingly reveals a matching eye, whole and unharmed. "But first," he continues, twisting a finger into his ear to trail out with something foul that he flicks away, "First to deal with _these_ wearisome wretches, yes?"

His head snaps down to leer at the shadows, "Have at thee!"

_Traitor_... it snarls, trying to swallow him, and Mavis feels the air get light in her lungs, her vision going disturbingly dark at the edges. _It will find you, It will—!_

"It can go piss whatever passes for Its undergarments." he interrupts simply, grinning cheerfully in a manic leer.

Mavis can't really recall much after that, as she thinks she passed out, but she was pretty sure he started _eating it... _

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"La-a-ady? Preserver lady?"

She feels knuckles brush against her cheek, "Wakey, wakey, little lady, the heroine needs accept her dues, hm?"

"Anyone ever told you that you talk weird...?" Mavis mumbled tiredly, then opening her eyes.

Green eyes looked strange in Johnny's face, she decided. The corners crinkle in a wide smile that's stained with darkness around the lips like blackberry juice when he sees her wake up. She thinks in her desperation she might be wearing matching stains... She licks her lips, and makes a gagging grimace at the taste, yup...

"Such vivacious vocabulary I owe to she who was my caster's lady," he tells her amiably when she finishes writhing, "But the cleverness of conversing and the talent of _tongue _are all mine, Preserver lady..." He winks, and she shudders, sitting up and backing off until she hits a wall, "You—no—his voice—that face—just, _no_—God help me I _will_ duct tape you, whatever you are..." she stammers weakly.

His grin quickly drops into a look of blank intensity as he stares at her, "All will be explained," he assures her softly, the smile coming back in a quirk at the corner, "But 'tis a story that needs no telling now. Your boy is safe," he pointedly pats the shadow he's casting, and she looks at it with slow realization, "And so are you," he adds, wiping off his mouth and taking a moment to spit, grimacing, "_Puh_, nasty wretches to the end... But...you are weary, and so is he. He shall know no memory of me, as for all my speech and likeness it was never the boys who heard me, only the girls... We'll exchange stories later, lovely, and if you need anything, I'll be right..._here_..."

He strokes the ground where his shadow is, and then his eyes fade from green to brown, and the lids droop, as what looks like a ripple of shadow moves over Johnny's body, and then the man blinks.

". . . Mavis...?" he rasps.

Wordlessly she hugs him, and a few beats pass before she feels him hug her back, and then the stupid crying breaks out...

She sees remnants of the shadows scattered like old rags around this alleyway, dark blobs through her tears, twitching weakly at the edges as they slowly dissolved, small pale faces smiling tiredly as they went, and she clutches him tighter, shaking while he tries to soothe her through his confusion, but she keeps reassuring him through her sobs, reminding him, reminding herself...

"It's okay... It's okay... It's okay..."

It's in this state that they're found, a flashlight shining on them in the dim, and they look wearily at their finders.

There is a momentary silence.

". . . What...in the name of _holy_ _fuck_...?" Elliot said blankly, before being cuffed upside the head by Avril.


	11. Hush

No one asked questions, and no one told stories, but the two helped clean Mavis and Johnny up a bit, while Elliot took some vindictive enjoyment from kicking at the remains. The stuff twitched, though, like a chopped snake's head, so they quickly left it alone. Somehow—Johnny didn't want to _know _how—Elliot and Avril managed to convince themselves to chalk up the whole _thing_ to _'luck'_. A _weak_ shadow, or-or maybe it was distracted by Johnny so Mavis could hack it apart or something, who the hell knew... But... Jonathan didn't bother to correct or confront or enlighten them, especially when they got to talking about 'actively hunting' the things, the 'monsters' and anything like them, down...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

It was a small 'camp', but a large site. What looked like this area's recycling center/plant had been repurposed. The fence was even more festooned with barbed wire, reinforced at the walls to prevent any climbers-in, the earth even packed in to prevent burrowing.

Was this stuff really keep out the shadows? Or were there other things out here?

Elliot explained that they found this place abandoned after evacuation. They'd converted some of the local offices into small apartments, and had been slowly establishing livable areas throughout the complex since the war started settling in. They apparently planned to be there for a long time...

"But it's only been a few weeks...?" Johnny asked.

That made Elliot smile, and it was grim, "A lot happens in that time. You might get that by now, huh? But that's another story..." he said simply.

They set up spare cots for Johnny and Mavis—in the same room, but the two really had no grounds to protest—saying they could meet everyone else and have a proper tour and trade when the other residents were awake, and after they were rested. This was simple, straightforward, and almost uneasily safe...

The two sat there in the darkness for a while, the distant sunrise making it slightly less dim, listening to the subtle, gentle creaks of settling structure and the pings and clicks of various pipe work. Johnny is the one who shifts first, making to unwrap himself from the layers, feeling strangely more at ease in an enclosed space. He subtly watches as Mavis does the same, ruffling her hair as she did so, but carefully around where he expected the scalp was still tender. He watches where the back of her neck is slightly exposed, seeing pale skin and slightly darker, smoother scar tissue; marked with fresher, dark patches that looked slightly like oily bruises... Her self-grooming turns to something slower, and he watches her almost absent-mindedly trace the edges of her scars, brush over those fresh marks... She heals well, he knows, but...

"That was...freaky, wasn't it?" he asked, to break the silence.

". . . Heh, y-yeah..." she admits, glancing at his shadow, just a patch of darkness under his feet. It looks normal, like his own.

". . . How's your back?" he continues, making her pause.

She shifts experimentally, and allows, "The bandages help, keeps stuff from...brushing on it or anything..."

". . . We might have to check it, after all that..." he quietly tells her, waiting tensely.

A few beats and then...

"It's fine." she mumbles.

She listens to him quietly strangle the air in his frustration, feeling both amused and tired before she speaks up, "How're you?"

"Changing the subject." she heard him accuse, and she rolled her eyes, "It's an honest question, Johnny," she retorted, glancing at him over her shoulder, "We've been all about me and my crap, but what about you? You've, y'know, nearly got technically..._eaten_..."

"I'm _fi_—..." he pauses, staring, and she turns away to hide her grin.

She hears a hand smacking a face, and allows herself to smirk.

"That's..." he growled, complaining, rubbing at his eye, which feels strange, a bit like it was _sticking, _but the feeling passes, "I really am fi—that's not _fair_, Mavis..."

The vampire thinks about it, and sighs, ". . . You're right, it's not." she agrees, "I'm sorry."

"You're—wait, what? Just like that?"

She shrugged, and promptly slides off her coat, messing with the hem of her shirt, running her hands along its edge to untuck it from her jeans.

"After all that? Last thing I want is another fight..."

She looks at him again, and he looks blank, staring below her face, "Um, turn around for a bit, please?" she asked, feeling her face flush.

"What do you—_oh_, right, right, right," his face turns a darker shade of red, and he quickly turns to face the wall, "Um, sorry."

She laughs nervously, feeling weird to still have a sense of modesty, the shirt temporarily blinding her when she pulls it over her head, as it gently catches over the bandages. Feeling for that end that she'd tucked into the wrapping, she speaks what had been somewhat on her mind, "Is it...bad that I'm a vampire, Johnny?"

That seemed to surprise him, "Is it _what?!_"

"Look at the _wall_." she warns quickly, and again hears the scuff of sneakers on cheap carpet when he reluctantly does.

"Sorry, sorry, but. . . But why would you _think_ that?" she hears, as she finds the end, and begins to unravel it, but carefully so she wouldn't strain her shoulders.

"It's just..." she considers it carefully, "You didn't really tell them what I was, and I felt I shouldn't, so I was wondering..."

"Oh... It was just..." she hears him pause, as if searching for words, "I just want...to play it on the down-low for now, for...safety stuff..."

"'Safety'?" she repeats, confused, before a sharp hiss escapes her teeth as the raw skin's exposed to the air, "_Ah, f-s-s-s—WALL, Jonathan._"

"Mavis—"

"_Wall_. _Please_."

The silence is a bit longer before the carpet scuffs again under his feet, "_Sorry_." he mutters, and she winces a bit to herself.

. . .

". . . I-I get it, I think, but, what's 'safety' mean, exactly?" she continued to ask quietly, slowly re-tightening the bandage, again covering the skin.

"I..." she hears something thump gently against the wall, maybe his forehead, ". . . You've heard them talk, Mavis, they're considering monsters as a possible..._cause_ in all this, the war, the... I don't know how people are dealing with it exactly, but I don't wanna find out what happens if they...if they think that you'd..." he trails off.

That makes her blink, and she tries to make sense of it, "You're afraid of them?"

"I wouldn't call it that. They're cool people, I mean, they're letting us stay for now, so..." he says, but he sounds uncertain.

Mavis tries to understand, "D-don't you usually just, you know, 'roll with it'...?"

"It's not that simp—... It's, no, it's just not that simple anymore, Mavis, not when it feels like you'd only roll off a freaking _edge _all the time..."

There's more silence, and then he speaks up, "Well...how is it?"

". . . It's healing." she replies quietly, "Let's just leave it alone."

"_Mavis_..." she hears him turn around, and he ignores her protest, "You didn't even check, did you?"

"Yes, I _did_," she retorted, shifting around in her seat to properly glare at him, shirt clutched in front of her chest, "We can leave it alone."

His eyes narrow at her, then glance at the still slightly loose bandage, "We have to be sure it won't get infected. Just show me, please?"

"I don't want to." she says bluntly, and tries to find the right end of the shirt while he's thrown off.

". . . _What_?"

"Y-you heard me," she said quickly, shaky hands fumbling with the fabric, she just wants him to stop staring, "I'm not some 48-year-old, and you're not my babysitter, Johnny. I can take care of it," and she glares, backing up when he moves forward, "Or do you honestly think that I can't?"

"It's not..._about that_..." he protested, and before she can make any comeback he's lurching back again, pacing, "Why is it—fine, you know what, fine... Yeah, you're right, I'm so overbearing that I... How _should _I _act_?" She blinks, jumping back when he's in her face again, but he doesn't look angry, just...frantic, "I mean it, _how _can I do this? How can I try to help without...without getting _growled_ at all the time, huh?" he pleaded, "First you say I'm shutting you out, and now, after all this, _you're_ the one who's... I... I-I _can't_ read minds, Mavis... What am I doing wrong?"

'Something' is what she wants to tell him, 'nothing' is what she really thinks, and that's what comes out: nothing.

She's only staring with her tongue stuck behind her teeth.

"Nn... No, nothing, it's nothing, I just don't..." she tries, shaking her head, "I just don't want you to see it now, Johnny."

His shoulders slump, a nervous, lopsided grin, "Heh, oh, 'you don't want me to see'? I can't just _ignore _this..."

"It's _gross_." she protests, running back to the basics.

He rolls his eyes, "From the girl who eats mouse jelly? Eat that, visit a bio lab in freshman year, and then you can tell me what's gross."

"It _hurts_."

He shakes his head, "It'll heal, I'll help—"

"You shouldn't _have_ _to._" she snaps, and that's what gets him. She winces at his expression, "I'm sorry, I'm—sorry... You've done nothing wrong..." she mutters quickly, shaking her head quickly, turning away. That's all it seems she's ever felt able to do lately: snarl, snap, growl... "You've been... You've been _fantastic_, I..." she takes a shaky breath, "It just shouldn't—I just never wanted it to be like this either, okay? I never wanted you to see me...to...to be seen like..._this_..." she gestured a helpless hand vaguely, letting it fall back in her lap, ignoring the sting as the skin of her back stretched, "I..._hate_ it..."

She stares at the floor for a moment, hearing silence, before shaking her head again, moving to stand, "I'm sorry, forget ab—_uh_?"

A pair of hands land lightly on her shoulders, making her jump... He presses, casually making her sit back down.

"So..." he says gently from behind her, his hands staying there while she was frozen, "All that talk about 'no regrets', then, you...didn't actually mean that?"

She finally gathers enough brain cells to blink, "No, that's not what I—" his thumb experimentally presses into a muscle near her spine, and she loses that thought, "_Mrgh_..."

"Uh-_huh_." she vaguely hears him comment.

He was beginning to knead his way up the bumps of her vertebrae, just up to the base of her skull and _tha-ha-at shouldn't feel as good as it does..._

Her head falls forward with a reluctantly pleased grunt. Finger pads catch gently over the still-rough edges of healing scars, as one of his hands moves to her scalp, threading through her hair to gently push and press, in soothing, petting motions, and for a moment she thinks it's like he's trying to soothe an _animal_, but then tells her brain to just shut up and enjoy it because dang that felt nice...

"You got between me and an _explosion_, Mavis..." he told her softly, one hand continuing to massage her scalp while the other ran a hard knuckle between her shoulder blades, down the small of her back, and her breathing shuddered a little as it caused friction on the bandages, pressure in a strangely right place, but it didn't hurt. "I remember you...you tore into those _things_ with-with killer claws and your bare _teeth.._. And you're _still_ **_going_**." "But I'm still—_nah_-not...—_oh-h, holy, yes..._" she growled when he pushed into one point under her shoulder, nearly arching, eyes closing, giving up. Her frown began smoothing away when he kept working at the muscle, voice roughening, sounding like he was smiling, "You're lots of awesome things... Weak—or anything like that—is totally _not_ one of those things. Okay? I would _ne-ver_," he emphasized with a comforting squeeze to the nape of her neck, near those perfect spots close to where the jawbone joined the cranium, "Think that of you... Okay?"

"_Nnfm_..."

Later, Mavis is a contented, boneless being, lying on the cot on her stomach, trying to stay relaxed while Johnny patiently tugs away the bandages.

". . . You _cheated_..." she mumbled reproachfully, but couldn't put much behind it.

He glanced at the back her head, smirking, "You complaining?"

"Rabies, no..."

He chuckles, turning back to his work, eyes narrowing as the raw mottled flesh comes into view, and Mavis cringes slightly, "That hurts, Johnny..." she warned.

"It just needs to...air out," he said carefully, but still can't help a grimace, "It...it looks like it's healing alright. Healing kinda fast, really."

"Really?"

She gently rolls her shoulders, giving a low hiss as the glistening skin stung, and Jonathan yelped, "Don't do that!"

Mavis laughs weakly, dropping her head back down onto the cot, "Not really." she corrects him, "Usually this kind of thing might be gone...I don't know, a lot quicker than this..." They quietly let that sink in, and she uneasily adds, "It's really gross, isn't it?"

"Nah, I've seen it worse." he says bluntly, then blinks, "Oh-h, that came out wrong..."

She shook her head slightly, straining a bit to see him over her shoulder, "Nope," she said, for once contentedly tired, "It's...honest... That's one of the things I like about you; you're honest." She sees him redden slightly, and smiles to herself, turning away, but then blinks as she feels the air flow over her back, and it felt slightly _cooler..._

". . . Uh, I wanna be wrapped up, now..." she mumbled quickly.

"What? Wh—?" "_Johnny_," she said slowly, burying her face into her crossed arms, "I am...pretty much half-naked and I appreciate all you do, really, but I'm just still not... _Urgh_, just please wrap me up...?"

"Oh... Oh! Oh, r-right, heh, yeah, give me a mo—um..." Jonathan clears his throat, and she feels him re-wrap the bandages, sometimes bringing in fresher ones, and the cloth of it feels strangely good.

"_. . . Shy, lady...?_" she hears him mutter, sounding like he was grinning, and she stiffens, even when he's tucking in a strip...

. . .

"What'd you say?" Mavis asked shakily, straining to look over her shoulder, but it's his brown eyes that blink at her, not those green.

"What?" he asks, pausing worriedly, "You okay?"

She flushes, turning back, "Y-yeah, no, yeah, I'm fine..."

There's another stretch of silence while he fixes the bandages, and when he's done, she takes a breath and sits up, turning to him, "No, I'm not fine," she says bluntly, glancing around the room, "Johnny, there's something that I have to te—..." her gaze is pulled to another section of the wall, and her voice catches, "T-to..."

Behind him, out of his sight but in clear view for her, his shadow is sharply outlined against the wall, edges too crisp, unnatural, at the wrong angle for this room's dim light, and it's...moving..._separately_...

It's playfully pacing, Johnny's shape; comically exaggerating its stride, lazily goose-stepping from one wall to the other, before it stops, knowing it's having her attention.

It looks like the head turns to her, tilting, holding up a finger like it had an idea, before the shadow of the hand moves and blends into the shadow of the face. Slowly, a strip of light carves a wide smile in the face, showing that it was holding a finger in front of its mouth. It bowed towards her, finger still in front of its mouth in the making of a silent, theatrical _'shhhh'_...

She stared, shocked into silence, and then Johnny's hand waves across her vision, and in the moment she blinks the shadow is just some vague _normal_ blob at Johnny's feet.

". . . Mavis...?"

She looks at Johnny's face, at those open brown eyes lined with shadows of stress and sleeplessness, and hoped she wouldn't see green.

She simply let her head fall against his chest, hearing his confused grunt, and then waited until she felt him hold her, hands hesitant on her shoulders, "Mavis...?"

"I'm sorry... I'm _so_ sorry, Johnny..." she said shakily, "I'm j-just so glad that you're okay..." It felt like something was sticking in her throat, her brain pounding with a cross between relief, worry, and anger, not daring to look at the wall, glaring at the shadow that pooled so _innocently _at her human's feet... He holds her more firmly, wrapping his arms around her, careful not to put too much pressure on her back, holding her to him, "Oh, no, hey, it's okay... It'll be alright..." he tells her quietly.

_Yes_, she thinks, nodding and turning her face into the cloth of his shirt, breathing in his scent, his presence, shutting her eyes tight against the thoughts of damned shadows.

A brief memory of something wonderful stirs her as she inhales, but that sense is swept aside by determination.

_Yes, it will be alright.._. _She'd make **sure** of it.  
_

* * *

**. . .**_  
_

* * *

**Preview:**

**. . .**

_"**Murderer...**"_

_"Oh, come now, Johnny, that's such a presumptuous term..."_

**. . .**

_"You shook my ha~and, Johnny... I told you: I help people out, by giving them what they need, to get what they want... Do you understand yet?"_


	12. Test

_His dreams aren't usually this detailed, Johnny thinks. He can see little lights below, warm ones dotting the shadow-softened shapes of buildings, while the little lights above are sharper, colder, like bits of glass, scattered across the sky like the glitter of a damp, flung fishing net. That's funny, he's never seen the sky this clear. No moon tonight, but that's alright, no eyes needed for this flight..._

_Man, he should've brought snacks or something._

_For a while, he just goes on, arms outstretched, feeling the wind tear at his hair and slip past his body like an open-air car ride, silent and speedy. He's not falling, per se, but if so, it might be that really weird falling you get where gravity is very indecisive and uncertain, and he's really hoping gravity wouldn't be a jerk and suddenly drag him down. One, he'd have to flap his arms, which never worked, and two, he didn't want to cut this thing short, really._

_This was kind of fun. _

_He never thought the world could look so big, the horizon so far away, the land so spread; that the wind could be so cold or thin, yet every time he fills his lungs he feels so **light...** This was so different from looking at it through a plane window. __So free, no money, no tickets, no limits, no rules, no... Trippy._

_Yeah, his dreams usually aren't this detailed, but hey, who's to judge what the brain comes up with? Might as well enjoy it._

_He sees...things. He sees things he remembers seeing on postcards or on his own travels. There was the Taj Mahal. Very cool at night, though he didn't know how he was imagining it at this angle. There's Giza, nice time, the river looks awesome. And...hey, is that the Big Ben? Awesome! He could almost fly into it! Something steers him away, though. Dang, he wanted to see what those numerals looked like up close... Ah, well._

_. . . How was he keeping himself up, anyway? Normally the flying dreams he had before felt like he was being slightly pulled up by his upper arms or something, but here he's...not sure..._

_And then, as he's thinking about it, he's suddenly angling down and yup, there go the flapping of the arms which is, as always, so freaking useless..._

_It drags him down into a bit of a nosedive. It's not scary or anything, but it feels uncomfortably inevitable, and he seems to be aiming at a particular light._

_Crap, crap, crap, no he didn't mean it whatever it was no, woah, woah, no, aw c'mo-o-on...! _

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Johnny jolts up, blinking sleepily, hearing a light thumping at the door.

"Wuhfzzt?"

A voice is muffled through the door, "You two awake?"

Jonathan blinks again, squinting around, that sounded like Avril.

". . . Yeh?"

Avril sounds amused, "Uh-huh. You two decent?"

He looked over at Mavis, a dormant lump on her cot near the other side of the room, "Uhm... Give 's a min'..."

"Sure thing." Avril chuckles.

Jonathan blinks again, finally wakes up enough to start, "_Nn!_ N-no, wait, I didn't mean that we—!"

Too late, he can't hear the guy anymore.

"Ah-h... Never mind...?" he groaned.

Scratching at his face—he'd have to ask if there was a razor these guys could spare—rubbing at his eyes, he looked over at Mavis again, before smiling tiredly, swinging his legs over to stand. The carpet was one of those thin, cheap spreads that didn't disguise that what you were stepping on was essentially concrete. At least it wasn't too cold.

He shuffed over to her cot, leaning over to peer at her face, stifling a laugh at the cute, shut-eyed slack-jawed expression. Yup, she was out.

"Mavis?" he said quietly, gently shaking her shoulder, "He-ey, Mavey? Wakey, wakey?"

Her eyes shot open to stare up at him, startling him back. But hey, she woke up quickly this time.

"Who?" she squeaked.

"You...?" he chuckled nervously, looking her over again as she sat up; she still had that dazed look from waking up, "Sleep alright?"

Mavis stared at him for a moment before slowly nodding, finally blinking and rubbing her eyes, "Ugh, sorry, yeah. Um, time's it?"

Johnny shrugged, "Morning, I think. But I don't think we'll have to go outside, so we'll be safe."

She nodded again, stretching, "Mm... Morning, Johnny."

He smiled, backing up so she could carefully sit up to sit on her cot. Her hair was a charming mess of bed head, though he was probably the same.

"Morning, Mavis... Um, you hungry?"

She paused in mid-stretch, forehead wrinkling as she thought it over. She sighed, letting her arms fall to cross on her lap, "Hungry..." she admitted regretfully.

His smile went wry, and he chuckled, "Nah, it's cool. Here, give me a minute."

He went over to his backpack, rummaging inside while he heard Mavis getting herself together, and looked at what they had.

That quart, and two bags left... Eight cups. Eight days.

"Hey, bag or box?" he calls aloud, frowning to himself at the figures.

For a moment there's a pause, and he hears, "B-bag, please..."

He nods, and takes it up, turning to her, "Straw?" he asks hesitantly, and she bites her lip, showing a fang that might've looked a little sharper...

"No..." she mumbles, and then she looks at him pointedly, "Only taking half though."

He smiles, holding out the bag, "Half, but then we see how you feel." he replies amiably.

For a moment they stare at each other, before she rolls her eyes, breaking the tension, "Fine." she sighs, taking the bag.

She turns it over carefully, letting it slosh in her hands.

She thanks him quietly, taking one end of the bag's edge into her mouth, tilting her head back and sinking her fangs in with a sound like popping bubble wrap, and she eats, slurping from it like a juice pouch... This was a much more careful feeding than that desperate mauling of the last one, Johnny thinks, watching her drink. Her swallows were slower, more controlled, and she'd sometimes pause to check the amount left. She glances at him, then away. He swallows dryly when he thinks he hears her _hum _around the plastic... He turns away, making an excuse to himself to find a clip, to clamp off the bag if need be, but feels his face is warmer, among other things... He wasn't really gonna think too much on _why_ at the moment, nope, no thinking about it at all.

He turns back to see her licking the redness from her lips, still staring at the bag that has roughly half its contents left.

_Seven days_, counts the treacherous little timer in his head. _Alright, **maybe** fourteen if they can stretch it, but the way she's looking at it..._

"So what are we doing?" Mavis asks, making him blink.

"What?"

"Out there, what are we doing?" she repeated patiently, a fingertip tracing the edge of the IV bag...

"Oh," Jonathan smiled, "I think we're gonna get to meet the gang. More _humans!_" he sang playfully.

She laughed a little at that, holding the bag in one hand to brush her hair behind her ear with the other, "I'm kinda nervous."

Then her face became more serious, "Johnny, do we tell them?"

He shook his head, "No," he replied, "Or...or not yet. I wanna get to know who we're dealing with first, y'know?"

She nodded, opened her mouth, closed it, then looked aside, ". . . I...didn't know," she said softly, "That you'd lose some of that 'rolling'..."

Johnny looked at her with an indecipherable expression on his face, before he shrugged, smiling gently, "Sometimes you need to lose some things, I guess..."

He held up the clip in a silent question, scissoring it between his fingers. She looked at it, at him, and then at the bag, biting her lip again. Johnny could see the pearly tips of her fangs pressing over that flesh, and felt his mouth go dry. She made to give the bag to him, but he smoothly pulled the clip back, raising an eyebrow, "You sure, Mavis?" he asked quietly, making her pause and stare. The change of her was almost instantaneous. She was in his face, eyes large and bright with blown pupils.

"_Don't you **dare** test me, Jonath**an-n-n**.._." was Mavis's low replying growl, making him blink in shock. Then _she_ blinked, and that predator-like glare vanished, ". . . Er..." she mumbled awkwardly, backing off, "I'm...not a mor-morning person? I, agh, I'm sorry..." she whimpered.

"No, I am," Johnny said hastily, "Y-you're right, I shouldn't—" then she surprised him again by sinking her teeth into where the remaining Blood Beaters pooled in the bag.

"_Mavis!_"

She backed away as he advanced in his panic, snarling around the bag as her eyes locked with his, and he stood still, almost like she'd used that freezing power, but she blinked, and shut her eyes as she fed, and he could only watch, unable to bring himself to stop her... The room is filled with the quiet sounds of her gulping...

. . .

She took a breath when she finished, tongue instinctively lapping up the remaining stains of blood—_fake_ blood he had to remind himself—around the punctures in the plastic... ". . . You were right." she said simply, casually crumpling the bag to put it in their trash bag, "I _wasn't_ sure."

_Six days. Or twelve. Way to go, Johnny... _

Even as he starts to form an apology, she moves in, standing up slightly on her feet to kiss him, a chaste pressing of her lips against his. He grunts, mixed feelings churning through his brain like, _Mavis is angry, but Mavis is kissing him, but Mavis tastes like fake blood which tastes... But Mavis is kissing him. But isn't Mavis angry?_

Jonathan gives up, going with the majority of his thoughts and leaning into the kiss, hearing a sound of pleasure from her before she breaks it off.

"I...guess I need to lose some things, too, huh..." she mumbles quietly, eyes on his, then his mouth, and he thinks her gaze trails to his neck...

For a moment they stand there, not touching, just a breath apart, before she shakes her head, backing up a step, and suddenly he can breathe again, a husky exhale...

She smiles sweetly at him, flushed around the cheekbones, that adorable loving puppy look back on her face, "C'mon, let's go meet some humans."

Jonathan swallows dryly, standing there for a moment, thoroughly thrown for a loop, before following her to the door.

He was so mentally confirming the 'freaky scary mood swings' thing on the list...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

_Later, Jonathan thinks about that, about what might have almost been._

_If she had asked him to, would he have let her?_

_The answer to that was easy._

_But then there's the harder question._

_If she would **have** to, but wouldn't want to, would he be ready to...?_

_Hmm. . ._

_That thought led to other thoughts he did not want to think about right now. . ._

* * *

**. . ._  
_**

* * *

They follow Avril down to what counts as the mess area, being bluntly told that where they slept would be their new apartment, should they want one, temporary or otherwise, but space and utilities were limited, so no complaining if things had to change around. He had said this with a slightly pointed look at Johnny, who at that moment honestly couldn't save face to save his life.

"Time to get acquainted, kids." he told them, "Alright, everyone, new survivors!"

"Hey, Dad, just taking stock."

The couple blinked as they stepped into the small cafeteria, at the people at the tables, well, table. It had a lot of random stuff collected into piles on it, food things, electric appliances, what looked like gun magazines... Elliot waved in recognition from across the table, he was sitting with a woman who held a baby on her lap, the baby swaddled in a sling that was a long strip of cloth wound around her body.

A few other people were sitting around; a younger girl, a couple of men, and a person leaning against the other wall.

Avril made introductions, "You two know Elliot. That's Alice, there, his wife," Alice waved, smiling tiredly, "And that's little David, there." Avril continued, face softening into fondness at the baby. "I'm Ellie." the girl spoke up, stare flicking between Mavis and Johnny, "How'd you beat the shadows?"

Alice gently snapped something in Swedish, too quick for Johnny to pick up, and Ellie rolled her eyes, settling back, "Never mind..." she muttered.

"Sisters." Avril explained bluntly, shaking his head.

"Oscar, Marcus," Avril gestured to the two men. The one who must've been Oscar waved, while the other nodded, and Johnny already wasn't sure he'd like Oscar, if he could go by the way the guy was already looking at Mavis... He quietly shuffled closer to Mavis, glaring at the man. The guy named Marcus just looked bored.

"And that over there is Miss," Avril continued, ignoring any glaring contests to gesture to the woman leaning against the wall.

"Never gave us a name, so we all know her as Miss. Right?"

"Mmhm. Pleasure to see you made it." 'Miss' said lightly in return, the barest hint of an accent in her English, and Jonathan looked at her face. She didn't have one.

She didn't have a face.

Every muscle in his body locked around his bones.

_Uh-oh._

_Faceless man? _No...faceless dude was now a faceless girl—no—what?!

Nothing. Any time he stopped looking, Johnny could recall nothing about his...her...whatever, _its _face...

Everything came back.

The 'preliminary' session, the note, the 'boom', the concrete dust-covered remnants of poor Sandberg, the vest, _uh-oh,_ _Mavis_...

_Uh-oh._

_Uh-oh._

Oh, _hell_ no...

He stares at Faceless, who looks back at him with eyes she—It?—shouldn't have.

Then he blinks, and his bones stop crushing themselves, and he leans a bit on Mavis, glancing at her. Mavis looked over Faceless, and only smiled, nodding at 'her'. Johnny subtly looked around while everyone talked, a meaningless hum in his ears, background. No one else really seemed to 'see' Faceless...

_What? _

Mavis quickly gets into a conversation with Ellie, and Jonathan answers some trivial questions from Elliot's wife, Alice, who is a nice lady. The baby is cute, too, a little boy who's still young enough that there's still fat around his little body, some blue left in the eyes...

Then, Jonathan sees 'Miss', Faceless, whatever It is, walk out of the hall, and with no consultation from his brain, his legs follow...

* * *

**. . .  
**

* * *

"—voice did it use?" Mavis heard Ellie ask, and she blinked at the girl. Johnny had been following Miss, which confused Mavis, but she'd ask later.

"Sorry, what?" Mavis asked.

"The shadow, what kind of voice did it use on you?" Ellie repeated. "It's always different, whoever hears it."

"Oh..." Mavis frowned, thinking. The voices had gotten kind of...unnoticeable after she followed that other shadow...

"Uhm, kind of like myself, then like Johnny..." she admitted, "Maybe like my dad, too, at one point, but that one didn't stick."

Ellie nodded sagely, leaning back against the table, "It sounded like my sister for me, then Elliot," she glanced at the two in question, and the human girl's eyes might've tightened for a moment, "It's a nasty piece of...it made it sound like the _baby_ was dying at one point..." she muttered darkly, "How the hell did _you_ kill it?"

When Mavis stayed quiet, Ellie rolled her eyes, "Whatever... Anyway, Johnny, he's your boyfriend?"

Mavis was taken aback by this human's bluntness, but nodded, smiling a bit, "Yeah."

Ellie made a displeased sound, "Dang."

"Sorry? . . . Hey, how old _are_ you?" Mavis asked.

"Seventeen." she replied, "You?"

"One... Uh, eighteen. I'm eighteen." she said carefully.

Ellie grinned, "At least I'll finally have someone to talk to who's a _girl_. Alice has the baby and Miss is just hard to catch."

"And them?" Mavis asked, nodding subtly to the two men, who were thankfully sitting out of earshot. She didn't like how the one called 'Oscar' was looking at her. The boy in question winked at her, and Mavis looked away, uncomfortable. Ellie sneered, "They're cute enough, yeah. But Oscar's a creep, and Marcus is just..." she fought to find the word in English, "_Weird_..."

Now the vampire looked at Marcus, who looked like he was scratching something into the table with a blade, "What's weird?" Mavis asked.

"I...don't like his eyes." Ellie replied simply, bluntly, and left it at that, quickly changing the subject, "So how long have you been with Johnny? Do you..." she was grinning now, speaking in a very low voice, looking embarrassedly excited, "How long've you guys been going out? Do you, y'know, 'do it'?"

Mavis stared in amazed horror at the girl. Humans _were_ scary, in their own ways...

"Um..." Mavis began carefully.

* * *

. . .

* * *

The woman-man-thing moves fast, and they're soon away from the cafeteria, and Johnny's sure he's gotten lost.

Somehow, suddenly Faceless is waiting for him around the corner, and Johnny can only stand there, staring at It, and says the first thing that comes to his mind, when he thinks about the blood, the blasts, the bodies, Mavis's blank, blank stare...

"**Murderer...**"

That makes Faceless laugh, and Johnny's disturbed when he still sees the preliminary man in her, even as he can see the feminine build underneath the thick hoodie.

No suits here.

"Oh, come now, Johnny, that's such a presumptuous term..."

Whatever Miss was, she isn't here. This was something like the preliminary man, but a bit more...laid back...

"I'm impressed. Honestly, I am. It's rare that someone will recognize me in another 'face'."

It musingly strokes Its own waist while It says this, almost provocatively, and Johnny looks away, disgusted.

"You _killed _people..." Johnny continued shakily, hands clenching, but his feet are glued to the floor. "You _blew up _the—"

Faceless raised a finger, grinning with a mouth It didn't have, "No. No, no, no. You think too _narrowly_, Johnny. The fragments of some rebel group had bombed the Center. Whatever noble reasons they think they had in doing so, well—it doesn't matter. No one will know or care come next month, until some fragment from _that _shows up."

"The ve—"

"The vests? Gifts. The deaths? Worthy." Faceless smiled, the same sad smile It had given him back in the fake mirror room, "I'll humor you, Johnny. I've never shed blood, I've never fired a firearm, nor unsheathed a blade, nor pressed a button to a bomb. Do you understand yet?" Its head tilted, ". . . And I see you don't. Pity."

"S-_Sandberg_...?" his voice trembled.

Faceless shook Its head, raising Its palms, "Oh, please, Sandberg was a miserable creature by your race's standards, again, _worthy _of being a collateral."

It smiled politely at him, "Do you want to know why?"

"No." Johnny groaned, unable to move his feet. Faceless told him anyway, "Once upon a time..." It began, in a voice as if It were discussing the weather.

It then went on to tell him a story, a horrible, miserable story about a man who got drunk in front of his family, cheated on his wife, and was in a progressing stage of liver cancer that would be near inoperable by the time he finally got over his blind pride-fuelled, paranoia-induced denial to subject himself to surgery. He was going about his job, thinking of hiring a lawyer to help in the custody battle... "—and then 'poor Sandberg' got crushed into a fatty meat pulp by immediate blast debris." Faceless finished solemnly, "The End."

The hallway is silent.

It looks with fascination at Johnny as he stands there, silent and shaking, jaw gritting and teeth bared. Faceless shakes Its head gently, "It was a _gift _to him, Johnny." It continued, "A mercy. His family received insurance benefits, his children a more stable household. His relatives had told him words of love and words they'd never had the allowances or freedom to tell him while he lived. He was looked on with and remembered with pity instead of scorn, a 'man on hard times', sad and humble in a closed casket, instead of a 'victim of his own machinations', to be seen pathetically flailing around in some metaphorical gutter." Then Faceless smiled, "But I ramble. I doubt you'd understand, anyway, their stories. So, now you've shown up, and accuse me of murder, after all I've done for you?"

"The _girl_—" Johnny protested weakly, hands sweaty and shaking, "The-the woman, with the tattoos—"

"Wanted something that life could not hope offer her." Faceless snapped, now somehow looking irritated, "_Her _story I cannot tell. It is not yours to read."

"But _Mavis—_"

The Faceless's 'expressions' changed too quickly, too disturbingly easily. It looked...fond, "Ah, yes, the vampire child. That story _was _hers to read..."

Jonathan finally looked straight at Faceless, anger rising in him, anger that was quickly squelched when he was pinned to the wall by his throat, feet easily off the floor as she held him there with a hand. She looked up at him, blank, while he desperately scratched at the wrist, struggling to breathe, his hoarse gasps muted by the walls. "I have an investment here, one that would really be _disappointing_ to give up," It said quietly, "I never expect to cross my investments, but perhaps your arrival could... Hm, yes..."

It then looked at some place below his face, cocking Its head as It looked at his chest while he struggled.

"Huh. Seem's that old clucking _bint's _spell took a liking to you. No matter."

It lowered him a bit, to stare at him with eyes It didn't have, "You will tell _no one_ of my existence here," It murmured, hand clenching into his trachea when he tried to speak, a thumb almost caressing his jaw line, "Because if you do, I will leave... And I will take the baby..." It laughed softly when his eyes widened, "Yes, I really do mean that, Johnny. And at such an impressionable age, when it's already known a mother's love..." It sighed, '_tsk_'ing, looking nostalgic, "Let's just say that was one of my raison d'êtres, back in the old days... It's bad enough you put a dent in my shadows, Johnny, don't test me now. I'm being kind enough as it is."

She let him go, and his knees got bashed when he landed on them, inhaling desperately, spots swimming over his vision, the floor moving in and out of focus.

"M-monster..." he choked, and grunted in panic when It snatched at his chin to make him look at It, and he sees the suggestion of teeth.

"You shook my _ha~and_, Johnny..." It said in a sing-song voice.

"I told you: I help people out, by giving them what _they_ need, to get what _they_ want... Do you understand yet?"

Then suddenly the hand clawing into his face is gone, and he's staring at jean-clad kneecaps.

"Oi, you going to be on the floor forever?" Miss asked, sounding amused, and Jonathan slowly stands, shaky and staring. Miss stares patiently at him, and even when he still can't remember the face, Johnny is confused, and finally he has the use of his legs.

He runs, back down the hall towards the cafeteria, towards Mavis, to make sure that the baby David is still there...

. . .

It grins with a mouth It doesn't have, head tilted thoughtfully.

"_Good luck, Johnny..._"

* * *

. . .

* * *

**Brief Note:** _Hello, there. References for the conversation are in the chapters labeled First Strike and Second Strike._

_Thank you, your reviews are most welcome._


	13. Mixed Blessings

Mavis was understandably uncomfortable. Ellie had gone to eat, or walk, or whatever human girls did, and Mavis, not sure what to do, remained at the table. She was looking over the strange collection of things, and one particular toy-looking thing was catching her eye, some kind of colorful cube... She should ask Johnny what it was...

"**-**Hey, you... You're not part Japanese or something, are you? With that hair, you look Japanese, like those...those goth loli girls, 's kinda hot...**-**"

Mavis turned to the human—this one was Oscar, right?—confused, "'Scuse me?" she asked.

Oscar leaned on the table, grinning, but his eyes looked slightly unfocused, "**-**You'll fit _ri-ight_ in...**-**" he continued lazily, and she didn't understand.

"He's drunk. Ignore him." she heard Marcus clip out, he not looking up from whatever he was carving into the table.

Mavis frowned, "I really don't understand Swedish." she tried to point out, and Marcus snorted while Oscar's grin widened.

"Yeah. He knows that." Marcus replied dryly, focusing on a line, adding to Oscar, "**-**In case you hadn't noticed, she's clearly with that other guy, Os.**-**"

"**-**I don't _see_ that other guy _with_ her...**-**" Oscar turned to retort.

"**-**Just knock it off before the old man shows up,**-**" Marcus snapped, still not looking up, "**-**I'm tired of going out of my way to save your ass.**-**"

"**-**Then _go_ your own way and watch your _own_ ass, I think mine's just fine.**-**" Oscar chuckled, and turned to give Mavis his attentions again, but would find the girl was gone. Mavis had gotten bored, annoyed, and frankly fed up with all of the gibberish going over her head, so she'd gone to find Ellie, taking the cube...whatever-it-was with her...

. . .

Oscar scowled lightly at the empty seat, "**-**Huh, she a ninja?**-**"

"**-**Smart, certainly.**-**" Marcus observed, and was glared at.

"**- **. . . Maybe if you actually _looked_ at a girl for once, we would actually find something in common...**-**" Oscar grumbled.

"**-**Uh-huh. We would've both 'looked at a girl'. Ta-da.**-**"

The other man sneered, slumping over the table, "**-**Oi... Some days I can't tell if you're a fag, or just dead.**-**"

The knife twirled between Marcus's fingers, as he scratched in a curve, "**-**Neither, I can tell you that. I'm very much alive, and plan to stay that way.**-**"

"**-**Yeah, yeah, 'I will survive, yadda ya'... And I'm not drunk.**-**"

"**-**So you say.**-**"

There's silence, filled with the scratching of the painstaking gouges of a knife point into cheap table laminate.

"**-**. . . She has funny teeth though.**-**" Oscar mused.

"**-**Oh, no, a girl with imperfections. Someone call security.**-**"

"**-**No, no, really, I mean it, man, like-like _fangs_ or somethin'... Cap things, maybe? Looked kinda sexy, maybe a kink...**-**"

The knife tip pauses.

"**- **. . . Fangs?**-**"

"**-**I know right?**-**" Oscar chuckled, "**-**Yeah, she's totally goth... Funny she's lasting through all this crap though, don't goths tend to be—?**-**"

"**-**The stereotype you're thinking of is 'emo', and you can't judge. Frankly, I'm surprised _you've _lasted this long.**-**" Marcus sighed, continuing his carving.

"**-**Oh, har-har. Still, that 'dark and scruffy' thing she's got going is kinda..._cute_...**-**"

The knife's tracing stops again.

"**- **. . . Oscar,**-**" its wielder said, "**-**I'm telling you this because you're an idiot who doesn't think with his _brain_,**-**" he drawled bluntly, finally looking at him with dark, disturbingly dull eyes, "**-**If you want to stay on our hosts' good side, just leave the new girl alone. It was really cutting it close with the Ellie girl...**-**"

"**-**A guy can _dre-eam_...**-**" Oscar purred, half-sprawled over the table, and Marcus rolled his eyes, "**-**Well, I warned you.**-**" the man muttered, resuming his 'drawing'.

"**-**Mind your own whatever.**-**" the other replied cheerfully, and again there was a neutral quiet filled with the scratch of metal on plastic and the silent musings of young men. Marcus looked up for another moment, sensing something, to see that Miss was watching them from the doorway to the mess hall.

For some reason she was smiling at them.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Mavis had found the mother, Alice, and had spent time talking to the woman, while trying to subtly look over the baby she held.

Mavis wondered if this was what her mom might've looked like when she held a baby _Mavis_...

It's not like Mavis had never seen babies or children, whether monster or human. The werewolf pups were enough to give her the experience. It's just...she hadn't gotten to _enjoy_ the novelty of encountering a human baby. It looked a lot like babies were expected to look, like Mavis had looked in her baby paintings. Toothless, big-eyed, clumsy, slightly noisy, with a tendency to yank on hair or try to put anything in its mouth...

Alice suddenly stopped talking, smiling, and Mavis blinked, embarrassed to be caught staring, "Um, sorry, I—"

"Would you like to hold him?" Alice asked in thickly accented English.

"Er..." Mavis began uneasily, "I never held...babies..." but the girl was bringing her arms out anyway.

It was awkward, but Alice was patient, showing her how to cradle the body and cup the head, and pretty soon Mavis now staring in stunned fascination at the warm, slightly sticky little body that was quietly squirming against her chest, his tiny fists waving uncertainly as one tried to grasp at the fringe of her hair.

Human babies were so _different _from the pups, Mavis considered. Pups would be active almost right after birth, within a few short months all ready to tussle with the rest of their pack mates, growing too wild to hold or be close to, except for the girl, but Winnie was still too young to play with Mavis properly, too distracted by her many brothers. But human babies were so...helpless...

Winnie... Wayne, Wanda, Dad, the hotel, everyone... How were they doing...?

Mavis rubbed a thumb almost absently against the skin of the baby's arm, feeling its softness, its warmth, while the skin of his scalp against her palm was hot, almost sweaty, looking at the admittedly adorable pouting face as the baby looked back at her, seeming almost as curious and confused as Mavis was. "His name's—David?" she asked, shifting a little when he got heavy. Alice nodded, her smile turning sadder as she looked at her son, highlighting the tired lines around her eyes and the slight sharpness of her cheekbones, "Five months." the woman said softly.

Mavis paused, swallowing as she realized, so soon after this baby was born, all this... All those things...

"H-he's cute..." Mavis said shakily, and then blinked when his squirming got more pronounced, his face starting to scrunch up, "Oh! Ah, no, sorry, what did I—what do I—?"

Alice laughed at the girl's panic, gently taking the baby back, "You are okay. He's just hungry."

"He's hun—? _Oh_." Mavis blushed as the woman casually began unbuttoning the top of her own shirt, "Oh, I—uh, should I go?"

Alice blinked, but soon an amused smirk was on her face as she nursed her son, "I offend?" she chuckled. Mavis shook her head, staring at a wall, but kept glancing out the corner of her eye, "No, no, sorry, but..." Mavis was curious despite herself; that curiosity and Alice's obvious straightforwardness helping her be more at ease, and she looked more forwardly, ". . . Um, doesn't that hurt?" the vampire asked hesitantly, still slightly red in the cheeks.

Alice shrugged gently, "Discomfort at first, but then it's okay."

"Oh..."

Alice was smirking again, eyes more bright as she observed the girl's reluctant curiosity, "Never seen a mother before, Mavis?"

Mavis frowned indignantly, making the woman laugh, "Sorry, sorry, that did offend," Alice apologized, chuckling, "It is okay, see?" Alice made a vague gesture, to herself, to the baby, to the abandoned room of an abandoned place, "You are okay..." Alice repeated, and considered Mavis, looking her over, "Elliot, he...respects you. Dad does, too." she complimented.

Mavis blinked, "He does? They do? You mean Avril?"

Alice nodded, "Elliot, Avril, yes. You two killed a _shadow_," her grin became more...harsh, a sharp, alarming contrast in the touching scene of feeding her child, "_Much_ respect." Then Alice cradled her son a bit closer, curling in slightly, face falling slightly back into weariness, "Much...much thanks..."

Mavis sat there for a moment, looking at the young mother, before biting her lip, "What happened he—?"

"You're okay?!"

Both the women both jumped, Alice spitting out something in Swedish, the baby whining in protest as Jonathan practically stumbled through the doorway to look between them. Alice glared at Johnny and he backed up, balking while she quickly soothed David, and Mavis frowned at him, in parts annoyed and worried.

"We-e're _fine..._" she told him carefully, tilting her head, "Are _you _okay?"

Jonathan swallowed, glancing from Mavis, to Alice, and the baby again, before slowly nodding, "Sorry, yeah, sorry, I—_uh,_" his voice caught in his throat as he finally saw what Alice was doing, quickly back-pedaling even more, face aflame, "Oh, _geez_, I'm sorry, I—nuh—I'm, er—bye!"

They watched, bemused, as he left as quickly as he'd came.

"Nice, but odd boy." Alice commented bluntly, and then turned to Mavis, "You want to know what happened?"

The girl nodded, but Alice shook her head, "I'm not the one to ask, not with English, bad with words," she explained, "If you ask, ask Dad. Ask Avril."

". . . Okay." Mavis sighed, then tilted her head at David again, smiling, "He really is adorable."

Alice smile returned, almost proudly, "He will be a nice boy." she agreed, then looked at Mavis, "Now go see yours. He looked worried."

Mavis laughed apologetically, nodding and standing, "Thank you."

"_Ingen orsak._" Alice replied, playfully gesturing her head to the door, and Mavis complied.

Alice leaned back, shifting David so she could re-button her shirt as the girl left. That was a good girl, Alice thought to herself, might be a good influence on Ellie. She pouted a bit to herself, why couldn't _Ellie_ talk with her like that, for once? Ah... Well, that was probably a bit unfair. Ellie was a good kid, all things considered... Alice thought of all the things that had happened, and held David a little closer. Yes... All things considered...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Mavis found him pacing a hallway, not pacing thoughtfully, just...frantically. She watches him for a moment, the way his mouth kind of moves like he's muttering to himself. His hands don't stay still, they clench, or his fingers would run along the wall, lightly scraping it with his nails, or he'd rub at his head, nearly clawing at his hair, only to grind the heel of his palm into his forehead, over one of his eyes... It's honestly kind of disturbing to see him like this.

"_Johnny_." she says aloud, and he jerks, and then he's suddenly normal, flushed and embarrassed, grinning, "Ah-heh, um... Hi..." he said weakly. His eyes are normal.

Mavis managed to smile, crossing her arms, letting out a breath.

". . . You okay?" she asked bluntly, and then her eyes were drawn to the wall behind Johnny, and her smile locks up on her face, pinned at the corners.

His shadow hadn't stopped the pacing...

She goes on before he can answer, taking the box whatever-it-was out of her pocket, getting his attention on it, "What's this thing?"

"Oh, hey," he grins, relaxing a bit, and she keeps a wary eye on the shadow as he takes the cube from her, "A Rubik's Cube."

"A what-what?" she mumbled, moving slightly behind him to be over his shoulder, between him and the shadow, as he started fiddling with the...thing...

"A puzzle thing, very cool, you have to match the colors." he explained, already twisting it in his hands.

"Oh, and there's something inside it when you do?" she asked, looking over her own shoulder, eyes narrowing at the wall.

He laughed, "Uhm, no, you just match up the colors, it's awesome when you're bored. Hey, there's even these people who make _pictures_ out of them and..."

The shadow was still pacing behind Johnny, hands tearing at its own hair, flinging its arms as if it were ranting, and when its face turned to her, she could see it tearing strips out of its face to show the light of a mouth gaping in a despairing wail. She steps on where it connects to Johnny, and it pauses, suddenly standing still and straight, with no light-carved mouths, no aggravated gesturing. But it's still moving, back and forth, sometimes growing or warping like an actual shadow, like a light was moving around Johnny, and somehow it's creepier than when it was _moving_-moving. Then the shadow slows, and stops, finally fading to match the real light in this hallway and Johnny's hunched posture as he continued to tell her about Ruby's Cube...

"So what was bothering you, earlier?" she asks him, after it seems he's calmed down.

He pauses, still no closer to finishing the cube, a worried frown furrowing his forehead again.

"I..." he says uncertainly, "I can't...I don't—heh, man, this sounds crazy—but I don't really know, now..."

This really seems to bother him, and doesn't sound quite true, but Mavis decides not to push it.

"Stress?" she wonders, leaning on his shoulder. He's tense.

"Yeah, stress..." he muttered, turning the unfinished cube over and over in his hands.

* * *

. . .

* * *

The rest of the day was introductory, instructional, social. Mavis and Johnny were shown around the complex, being told about how they maintained the functions themselves and how the residents lived, the chores required and the projects being done. Modifications being built were going to make the place self-sustaining, supply areas were being stocked and organized, and sometimes people were sent out into the abandoned residential areas both inside the center and out there, to collect more supplies: food, tools, clothes, spare parts, things like that. Oscar had a knack for finding alcohol, it seemed.

If they had to be given statuses, Avril was the spearheader, with Elliot as the second-in-command, or consultant, or just the person who made sure his father didn't get too carried away. Alice and Ellie were the organizers and 'stock managers', from things to tools, food, and health supplies, Ellie being the 'messenger girl' of the group due to her speed, while Marcus, Elliot—and yes, Miss—comprised as the main workforce, assisting with the odd jobs, scouting, collecting, etc.

But of course, none of these were set roles.

Ellie took advantage of this, sometimes helping out her sister with the baby and the chores, sometimes tagging along with the scouting parties, or putting her two cents into Avril and Elliot's discussions. She was happy to talk to Mavis about everything and everybody, or rather, 'give her opinion' about everything and everybody. Mavis found the girl fun to be around, in a way.

Johnny, to the others' surprise, had a good mind for surviving and work involving problem-solving or the hands. He was already talking with Avril about the things involved with that, while Mavis was content to be led around by Ellie and learn, absorb, feel out what she could do for this group of humans... She wouldn't be able to do as much as she wanted, as she tired easily, lately...

Still, all things considered, it was a good first day...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"I'm sorry," she tells Johnny, as they're getting ready to sleep, back in their room. He blinks at her in confusion, and she explains, "For the...for the blood, Johnny, it was—I shouldn't have—" "No, no, I know," he said quickly, "No, I mean, I get it, I... I shouldn't have asked you like _that_, I mean..."

They both sit there in the growing dark, unsure, awkward.

"I should trust you more." he finished lamely.

"I should listen more." she agrees.

They both nod, another awkward silence...

"A cup every two days?" Mavis asks hesitantly.

"I—... Yes..." Johnny sighed, resigning himself.

Mavis looks at him for a moment, before getting up and walking over to press her lips to his forehead, "Goodnight, Johnny."

"Goodnight, Mavis." he replied, grinning as he stole one from her mouth, making her laugh a little before she goes back to her own cot, and they both tuck themselves in. Neither of them asks the other what they'll do once that time runs out, but the looming deadline takes both their thoughts before they fall asleep.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

It's late, in the belly of the night, when something moves in the room.

Mavis stirs, frowning a bit in half-sleep as she feels him, his hand brushing the hair out of her face, "Nm... Johnny?"

". . . For you, lady, I might be..." he tells her quietly, and she hears the grin in the voice.

Her eyes shot open to face a pair that's glowing _yellow-green_ in the darkness, nearly nose to nose, wordless in shock as his hands press on her shoulders to pin her to the cot, keeping her from moving, "_Hu-ush_-sh-sh," he chides her quickly, before she can say anything, "_Sh-h-h_... We mustn't wake those else who slumber. Indeed, as even _this_ body sleeps," he continues softly, hands moving again to spread out on either side of her head, a grin spreading again, wicked on Johnny's face as he holds her stare.

"Witnesses would not help our plight, I fear..."


	14. Poor Little Lost Boy

For a moment they stare at each other, and then the—whatever it was, Johnny-who-_so_-wasn't-Johnny—chokes as he receives a knee to the gut, tumbling up, over, and off the cot with a muted _thud_ to the hard, thin-carpeted floor. Mavis gets up, rubbing at her face and arms to get rid of the sleep, chills, and that feeling of surreal violation, scrambling to the relative safety of the ceiling.

"Ow-w-w... Ohh-h, gods, so _this_ is gravity... How painful!" she hears him giggle, a wheezing groan.

Mavis calms down, fear giving in to anger as she glares down at him, "H-holy..._freak..._ What are you _playing at?"_ she gasped, their voices whispers in this small room.

His smile quirks as he sits up to look at her, turns more nervous, "Ah-hah-ha, I would play, but it is no boy's game I propose," he tells her, but then says, "We need to go wandering this night, fair lady." "'Scuse you?" she growled, mixed feelings twisting harshly inside, confused. This was _Johnny _she'd shoved around, _Johnny _she was barely keeping herself from strangling. And then she saw the eyes again and knew it wasn't. That just wasn't _fair_.

Frustrated, she leaps from the ceiling to land on him, grasping the front of his shirt, "You tricked me..." she hissed slowly, as he did nothing but stare up at her with those freakish eyes, "A trickster I may be," he replied simply, "But not in this. On my word, I am not your enemy."

"What _are _you then? What are you _doing_ to him?" she growled, giving him a shake, "What do you _want _from him?!"

"It is not your boy I want, nor I who provokes him," the thing protested now, "My quest is as it stood from whence we first bargained: I wish to return to the flesh that cast me, and _this_," it gestured roughly to the body it possessed, "Is _not _that flesh. Fear not for him from _me_, for we do not match, look." He shoved his hand near her face, and Mavis blinked in the darkness. Fine tendrils of what looked like ink, or something thinner, wisp and curl, wriggling disturbingly like something living, fading in and out just beneath the palm's skin...

When she strains, she can see it all throughout the skin of Jonathan's body, like some disease...

She jerked back, lip curling, "What was all _that _then, that...that _freaky_ wake-up call...?" She was blushing despite herself.

Another smile crept over his face as his hand fell over one of her own, "That's not to say I would not have my fun in the meantime..." he chuckled.

She got off him with a sound of disgust, but he holds onto her hand, with surprising agility using her own movement to back her against the wall, "Uh?!"

"I thought you would...appreciate this boy's advances..." he murmured, way too close, "Does his body displease you so?"

Mavis blushed, eyes wide and jaw ground shut, and then the shadow blinked, grinning, "Ah, no, I see, I see, you are yet untouched..." he laughed, releasing her hand to trace her temple, making her watch his other hand trail along a tendon down his own throat... "Truly this boy must not appreciate his own flesh," he purred, "Or yours..." This earned him a rough shove to the chest that sent him stumbling back a couple good meters, "What—?" "Shut _up_," she growled, tired, a mix of humiliation and anger and pain as her back protested, the skin abused, she could feel it tearing, "You're...you're not _him_... You're not him..."

This made him pause, and for once look chastened, ". . . My apologies, lady," he said softly, "I meant no insult to either flesh or your shared love. Your form is as pleasing as your clear loyalties, and the pleasures of both belong to this boy... I will not taint such," he raised his hands in a show of surrender, "But please, hear me, I must leave, and tonight, before It discovers my presence."

"I'm not going _anywhere_ with you until you explain what the hell is going on," she bit out, "What. Is. _'It'?"_

"Something old, something ancient, something _bad_. And It nearly saw me," he said softly, eyes widened in what looked like fear, "Oh-h, mine is a story near too long to tell, and not all of _It_ can be told by me, lady, but please, _please _let us go before the dawn. It would mean ill for I and the boy both should It find I've taken sanctuary in him: It _hates_ when Its toys tangle..."

She looked at him, and then growled, a weak, chuckling sound as she gently leant against the wall, "What's to stop me from just waking him up?" she said quietly, "Heck, why shouldn't I?" she continued to ask, eyes narrow, irises expanding across the sclera.

Johnny-who-wasn't-Johnny relaxed, looking at her as he tilted his head, arms crossed, ". . . To your first inquiry, I would stop you...by doing what I feel I must," he said slowly, eyes bright and intense as he stared evenly at her, making her shiver, then he looked away to the window, where murky moonlight barely filtered through, "As to your second, to waken him now, and tell him of me, would make him aware of me... No amount of understanding on his part would save me from the rejection of his spirit and the spell inside him, and I would once more be exposed and shackled to obeisance to _It_, and any chances I have would be lost again, and O, could I never promise that my vengeance would be fair..." He held up a finger, suddenly smirking as she opened her mouth, "Ah-ah-ah, I sense your questions, dear lady! 'What chances?' 'What spell?' 'What, what, what?' And the answers to such questions, lovely Preserver, are best told...on the fly!"

Then he surprised her by running to that window, opening it, and vaulting out into the darkness of a two story drop.

Mavis gaped, rushing to the window, "John—shad—_you!"_

"_Run, run, run, as swift as ye ca~an!_" she heard the shadow laugh, and saw him dancing on the roof of the next building over, one floor lower.

Her jaw clenched into a hiss as she flung herself after him, gravity shifting to her feet as she ran down the wall, leaping lightly to catch at the edge of the roof, but he was already moving, and even with her vampiric speed he was elusive. He managed to dart and leap and scramble over places she had to run up and along, almost like the monkeys she'd see in zoos, almost like he was floating, laughing and taunting her with his voice. She gasped as her back protested her movements, as her limbs began to shake, and heard him chuckle, now from behind her, "You shan't catch me..." she heard him whisper. "How are you _doing _that?!" she spat, her fangs feeling heavy in her mouth, breathing heavily, whirling around to see him fling himself up a wall to crouch on it, grinning at her over his shoulder, green eyes bright, "Oh, please," he chuckled, "This boy has muscles he hardly uses!"

He dropped over the other side, and she grunted, running up and over to follow, and gasped as her legs gave out, a tripping over the brickwork make her roll and bash herself against the hard, paved ground. As soon as she'd stopped moving, as soon as everything caught up with her, it all stopped working, making her keen quietly. That was it. Her back screamed at her, her limbs shook, her skin sweated, being quickly chilled by the night air. That was it. She was _done_. She just _couldn't_ _move_...

She slumped there against the wall like an abandoned puppet, breath panting fast and shallow. Then she heard his footsteps in the darkness...

A low growl rose from her chest to rumble in her throat and through her teeth, as weary eyes tried to focus on him. He's not laughing anymore, or speaking, or even smiling. He's just looking at her, eyes faintly glowing in the dark in an unreadable expression on his face as he walks to her. "Have I at last captured your attentions, Preserver lady?" Johnny's body asked quietly, crouching in front of her, a hand reaching out to brush sweaty strands of hair away from her face, and she wordlessly snarls, trying to jerk her head away, "Oh, _hush_." he sighed, smiling wryly, stroking her cheek, "Take care of showing your wildness, lady, you might seduce me..." But he shakes his head, frowning, letting his hand drop away. "No, no, I am not your enemy, nor am I this boy, nay, I am not even flesh, no matter how flesh anchors and appeals..." he mutters, almost to himself. Then he moves, levering his arms under her body to put her on his back, and she weakly holds on, glaring at what she can see of his face, even as mixed messages come in. Johnny's warmth, Johnny's strength, Johnny's scent...

"You ask what I want from him, you wonder 'what spell', you wonder so much..." he continues easily, carrying her along with swift, even strides, "What I wanted from being your boy's shadow is the sanctuary it offers, the solidity it gives me. You heard me, before I became anchored. Barely being, half-mad and half-coherent, but, ah, that you heard me, such a sweet experience that was, and now that I am more lucid, now I can do as I wished for so, so long..." she heard it sigh, deep longing in its voice that both piqued her curiosity and aroused her caution, but she was so tired, and she couldn't hurt Johnny...

"As to the spell, I knew not, when I first encountered it. But when _It _confronted this boy, I gained at least a partial understanding. He lies, you know, this boy, he knows what troubles him. But he hides it for good reason. But I wander," he shook his head, weaving his way through the buildings, making her hold on so that he could clamber up the fence, through a rent in the wire, and take them outside of the base and into the sprawl of buildings beyond... "The spell," it continued, "One of protection, given from the touch of what seems like a witch. In my prime, such spells would not deter me, but this one is strong, and I am weakened. It permeates him, yet it concerns itself with _you_, only you could convince it to grant my entrance... So strange, that such a spell would warp and nestle itself in a mortal's shell, take that mortal's sentiments... I know not how, or why, for you two's story is not my own."

Mavis hummed, curious despite herself, and hey, it's not like she could go anywhere at the moment, "So what's _your_ story?" she asked quietly.

He laughed, "Ah, an audience? Well... There is time enough, I suppose, and it might be fitting, but... But it is not a happy story..."

She nods, resting her head against the back of his, and feels him shift her into a firmer seating, "Tell me anyway." she murmurs.

". . . Thank you, Preserver lady..." the shadow tells her, sounding tired, and then he clears his throat.

And now his voice is a bit different, a bit more defined in some strange accent, a bit more lilting, even in tempo and timing as he told Mavis a story...

"Once upon a time there was a boy, a boy who never wanted to grow up..."


	15. Storytime

"He _feared_ age," he told her as he walked, and she listened, "And all the things that came with it. Weakening, fading, and Death. It was the Fae that saved him, either out of their whimsical pity, or perhaps sensing kin's blood in him, who knew? They took him to a Realm away from the land of men, where he grew as much as he could outside of Time until he was, in whole and full, a youth. He was the embodiment then, of Youth and Wildness, and so, neither Death nor age could touch him... Doesn't that sound like a good ending?"

Mavis nodded tiredly, almost lulled by Johnny's voice, but she heard the shadow laugh, "No, that was not the end of it. Eternity wasn't all he bore, no, he was so wild, so _free_, not even Earth's embrace could hold him. Without even the whim of a thought he'd soar, no matter how high or how cold or how swift, he'd fly! He was free, in his spirit, and his body... So free, in truth, no mind he paid _me_..."

It was...unnatural, hearing Johnny's voice used with so much acid. Mavis's eyes narrowed at the nape of his neck, as the thing using Johnny's body continued speaking, "I barely knew the brush of his heel," he muttered harshly, "I had to bear trailing after him 'cross cloud and ground after his fancies with no hope for the touch of flesh or a shield from the sun... But he was wild, yes, so wild that such wildness spilled over into me, and I realized that I, his shadow, had my own fancies! When this I knew, I took upon them by _force_..."

Mavis involuntarily shivered at the sound of relish in Johnny's voice, jaw clenching. She'd wanted to hear, yeah, but hadn't considered what _listening_ really meant...

He continued, sounding excited, "Oh, if you could've seen the expression on his face, when suddenly I would not follow! Oh, what a blow his whelpish pride took! Hah, paid some mind to me _then_, didn't he, the fey brat! If you could've heard him, cursing and coarse when I gave him such a chase!"

"You talk _so_ weird..." she mumbled, making him laugh, suddenly shrugging to jostle her, making her gasp in protest, "Too late, you _will_ hear me, lady." he murmured lightly, but craned his head to eye her with that strange bright green color, and she looked away, and he took that to continue.

"It was...it was so much fun..." he sighed, "I'd been so free, having him chase _me_. I even baited him to soar the stars, no, I'd be no easy capture, then... One star, two stars, three, and suddenly we found I'd led ourselves back in the land of men that he had so feared. Oh, that was a good vengeance, I felt! But...it wasn't what either of us had expected..." his head tilted in a very Johnny-ish way, and he sounded like he was frowning, "The _shadows _there: stolid, strong, somewhat stationary, hard... Not at all like the wild cool shade of wood and wood's foliage that I knew..." he chuckled, somewhat ruefully, "Surprise was my downfall, as, my caster recovering before I, he caught me and bound me to him. He seared me back to his feet with the heated flat of his blade..."

Mavis shuddered, then, as she realized what that meant. And somehow, she could imagine hearing the sizzle of skin and a young boy's pained, grit-teethed yell...

He laughed again, bitter, "We flew home, then, and from then he'd take time to fly so high out of my reach that I'd scarce be a mere speck on the ground. But I had a laugh, too, knowing that each painful twinge of his burnt and bloody feet would remind him of me..."

Mavis frowned, feeling her own back's skin stretch and sting, but she stayed quiet...

"But he'd heal, and I'd heed... But still," he went on, "That glimpse of the land of men...would put strange thoughts in us. He became fascinated by what he'd seen of their creations, and sought to—perhaps not copy, no, but recreate those shapes in his Realm, those angles, nests, and coves... The things he made, though, were like a playground for him to exploit and explore. And I? I could only laugh at him and his _childish_ mockeries of the land of men. That land that _he_ would laugh at and scorn, and yet there he'd play with its likeness? Heh... Of course, pride made him blind, and _stupid_, and he'd simply chalk the make of it up to his own damned _cleverness_... I'd see it in his face, that _stupid, callous **conceit**..._"

The shadow's emotions changed so quickly, making Mavis nervous, but he relaxed again, relaxing his grip that he probably hadn't realized had tightened on where he held Mavis's legs, "Still, I could entertain myself, too, in those copied shadows in the angles and nests and coves. But I did wonder, what was hidden in the shadows in the land of men, in the darkness cast from moon-star-and-candlelight? I was curious." He snorted, "Of course, my caster was complacent, content, feeling no urge to seek that land again, thinking he had all he needed. So it was my curiosity, instead of my crossness, that drove me to rip myself free from burn-weakened skin to trail the stars once more," she heard the smirk in his voice, "His anger only gave me mild joy, then..."

He blinked, when they reached a fork in the passageways between the buildings, turning his head from one to the other, before glancing back at her, "Hold tightly, lady." he cautioned, and went for the ladder of a fire escape, jumping up to catch it, even with Mavis on his back. She squawked in surprise as he clambered up, easy as anything, "How in holy—?!" she squeaked, gripping around him. She wasn't afraid of heights, but this was weird!

He gave a strangled laugh, taking a moment to loosen her arms from around his throat as he climbed, "I told you, this boy has muscles he hardly uses. You are hardly _half_ the weight of his traveler's pack, and...you are quite a _welcome_ weight, if I may be so bold..." "No you may not." Mavis grumbled, and he only laughed again, and there was quiet as they reached the roof, and he scanned the dark horizon, frowning. He seemed to see his destination, as he kept walking, but along the rooftop, "I made it back to the land of men," he went on to say, "And made quick work to explore it in a frenzy, flitting from light to light like a moth to glean what such lights hid behind their brightness. Warm, soft light in those windows, not like the cold chips of stars... And behind those lights, he pursued me, and behind those lights, we found what we had not known we were missing."

He was quiet again, stopping, and Mavis thought he was distracted or disoriented again, when he suddenly ran, and Mavis's yelp caught in her throat as he gave a leap, for a moment feeling weightless before his feet hit the ground, stumbling forward a few steps, and the gravity shoved her against his back, "You—!" she snarled, eyes wide, as he howled in wild laughter at her panic, trotting on at a jog while Mavis looked behind them. He'd just cleared a ten-foot gap with that...

She glared at the back of his head, "Could've freaking _warned _me?!"

"Where is the fun in that, pray tell?" he snickered, then grunted when she gently fisted her hand into the back of his scalp, not enough to hurt, but enough to bring his notice, making him stop, "If you hurt Johnny..." she growled, "I will get you _out _of him and find some way to tear you to scraps..."

"Oo-ooh, so _violent_..." he purred mockingly, craning his head to leer at her, "I've been given worse threats, lady."

"That wasn't a 'threat'..." she said quietly, making him pause, and look at her. He shrugged, yanking his head free, "As you say." he muttered.

"I shall warn you, next time." he conceded, "Now, where was I...? Ah, yes, what was missing..."

He loped along, a bit more easily, climbing up and down and leaping across the joins between the rooftops, still managing to be heard, "It was children we found, boys, somewhat like us, yet...not... All sound asleep and snug in the nighttime, strange to us. I think...I truly think it was the first time we'd ever seen another child's face, and it was there that we discovered...loneliness..."

He hitched Mavis up slightly on his back, and she felt warmth in her face as she was more aware of the way she was pressed against the warmth of Johnny's body, of Johnny's hands hooked under her legs while the shadow used him to move. She bit her lip, feeling something else in that warmth, like it was pulsing... This just wasn't _fair_...

". . . He caught me again. I...let him..." she heard the shadow go on quietly, ". . . It was with a stone pried from the street that he _ground _me back into his feet... The ache of his raw tendons was a cold comfort to me when we went home again, leaving ahead of the dawn. If we stayed past dawn, we wouldn't be able to find the star-ways home 'til the next night, after all..."

Mavis glanced up, patchy clouds drifting over the dark sky, and she could see some stars.

"Of course," he continued, "Now he saw his things for the mockeries they were. Now the things he'd built felt so..._empty_, so bare, how could we enjoy them now? What could we do but fear that emptiness?" He shook his head, as if sensing her opening her mouth, "You do not understand. We were the only ones in that Realm the Fae gave us," he continued coldly, "We. Were. Alone. We just hadn't known it until we saw the...the _absence_ of loneliness... What could he even hope to make to compare to that?" He sighed, and then his voice took on a freakishly nostalgic quality, "That is when _It _found us, having followed us back from the land of men, having sensed the land's roots in us, sensing our fear. It came in a form of the Fae, a pixie, small and bright, and comforted us. It told him how to help his fears, how to placate me from my vindictive wanderlust. What could we do but listen?"

He paused, when the roofs didn't give such an 'easy' path, and quietly scoffed, circling the roof's edge to find a way down.

"It was easy, and...fun, this plan," he said quietly, using a windowsill and a dumpster to ease his way to the ground, and went on from there, and she felt the smile in his words, "To find boys with kindred fears of age and all that came with it, boys with open windows and broken houses, with weakened ties easy to break and in doing so coax them away from the land of men, so that those boys could live and play freely in boys' wildness... It was always the boys, of course, never the girls, who always seemed to be with closed windows and closed eyes, that we regarded them as separate creatures entirely, owed to the land of men..." he trailed off for a moment, before shaking his head, "Still, a new home we gave those boys," he went on warmly, "With the promise of eternal life, eternal fun, eternal laughter, and there was no more loneliness, in light or night... And, me and my caster? For a while we were _happy_, both truly content, our Realm feeling complete... Doesn't _that_ sound like a good ending?"

Mavis pointedly remained quiet, and laughter huffed through his nose, "Heh, you catch on," he chuckled wryly, "No, that was not the end of it."

She rolled her eyes, and he continued, in a quieter, softer voice, "Some things, I guess, were not meant for eternity..."

There was another stretch of silence, and Mavis didn't like the way Johnny-who-wasn't-Johnny's shoulders became tense.

"I suppose...the Realm didn't love those boys, as it did my caster..." he said slowly, "Slowly, slower than in the land of men, but still, those boys would grow and..._change_... Wildness would become brashness, spirit would become spite, curiosity would become cruelty, arrogance, pride, oh, we saw growing in those growing boys our fears, the fear of age's fading wildness, we saw _men_ growing... And then, a new fear came, the fear of broken promises. Had he not promised these boys eternal youth? Yet how could he give what Time would _not **grant**?_"

Mavis found herself automatically squeezing, smoothing at his shoulders, trying to comfort the stress she heard in Johnny's voice. She realized what she was doing, embarrassed, but the shadow sighed, seeming not to notice, "But the pixie came again, to ease his fears, and...It taught him how to keep his word..."

She felt how his grip shifted under her legs, and frowned in confusion, "It was quick, quiet, and cruelly _clever_..." he went on softly. "It was a _good _day, one of the best had. For us and those boys, it was a day devoted to Wildness. My caster and the boys, they played, they laughed, they tussled, they feasted, they did all those things that boys would do, no stops or thoughts, and it was _fun_... And that evening, deep in the belly of the night, under the stars and by the fire the boys lay, bellies full and eyes closed, fast asleep... But not us, not my caster, our day was not yet done."

Mavis felt the tenseness of his shoulders spread to her own, her hands stilling. His voice had gone...down...

Johnny-who-wasn't-Johnny faced straight ahead as he kept speaking, "For once, I appreciated my caster's lightness, that his steps wouldn't...stir the sleepers... There, in the dark red light of dying embers, he came upon each one...and with a skilled hand...drew the edge of his blade across each boy's throat..."

His hand quickly caught at her ankle, but she frantically kicked it away in her scramble off his back, fleeing up one of the nearby walls even as she already heard the scuff and scrape of his pursuit, the near frantic harshness of his breathing. She had the advantage of speed up along walls, sure, but as soon as she was on ground he could walk on, it was close, way too close...

She felt hands catch at the loose cloth of her shirt, of her sleeve, quickly snagging her wrist and climbing their way to grasp her shoulders and throw her down, and she felt the friction scrape and tear over her side and back. She snarled, eyes wide and teeth bared in a quiet scream as he came down on her, knees pressing on her upper arms as he crouched over her, using his weight to pin her while his hands framed her face, wide, yellow-green eyes staring down at her as she struggled, "Blood spilled and dampened the earth from the boys' veins," he continued shakily, his thumbs stroking gently under her eyes as she tried to claw him, to push him off, but it was Johnny, it was not Johnny, not Johnny, please, no!

"It-it pooled among the leaves and into the dirt," he ground out, voice even and clear even over the struggle, occasionally shoving to keep her down, "The earth was always richer from then on where that wild, lively blood was spilt, oh, please stop this, lady, please hear me, you don't understand, that's not the ending, that's _not_ the ending!" he cried out as she started shaking her head under his hands, snarling against tears and fear.

"J-JOHNNY!" she screamed at him desperately, arching to try and shove him off, "JOHNNY, PLEASE!" "Just...please..._stop...! Please, listen-you-don't-understand...!" _the shadow begged, thumbs now seemingly absently pressing into those soft spots under her jaw, and Mavis choked...

The shadow blinked, and then blinked again, shaking his head, and his grip on her face and throat eased slightly, and suddenly he slumped, seeming tired, and brown eyes blinked down in confusion at her. "Mavis?" Johnny asked, voice hoarse with sleep, and for a moment they were both frozen. Then he blinked again, the yellow-green color leaching back in with a harsh grimace, "_N-no..._" he snarled, holding his head, "_No, sleep, sleep, sleep...!_" and Mavis used the confusion to kick him off, coughing as she crawled away for safety, but again he grasped at her ankle, tugging her back roughly over the ground.

"No no-no-no now now no, hush, _hush_," the shadow said quickly, trying to catch her arm in a lock behind her back, a choke around her neck, "Please, I _understand_, I know what you're thinking, but it's not—_AAAGH!_" he screamed in sudden agony.

Mavis had sunk her teeth into what she could reach, his forearm, and felt cloth and flesh give under her bite until she felt something _scrape_ under it... He threw her away from him, tearing her off of him, and she stumbled away, was nearly going to run, until he called out, voice rough with pain, "I will do what I feel I must, lady!"

That made her freeze, and turn to see him just standing there, eyes wild and wide as his face was disturbingly blank, the sleeve of one arm ripped and bloody, and Mavis suddenly remembered what she'd tasted, and felt her teeth with her tongue, feeling shreds of cloth and what _might've_ been flesh caught between her teeth...

That wonderful _taste_...

"I will do what I feel I must..." he repeated quietly, snapping her back to attention, and he suddenly tilted his head, twisting it to the side, staring at her from the corners of his eyes, pointedly making the vertebrae harmlessly _pop_, but the noise was disturbingly loud. Mavis's mouth went dry, all taste forgotten, as he slowly made to wrench his head too fa—"NO!" she screamed, raising her hands, and he stopped, head nearly at an unnatural angle, and he slowly straightened again to stare at her.

". . . I'm sorry, Preserver lady," he said softly, expression looking pained, seeing the tears streaking her cheeks and the way her body shook.

"I can't let you leave until my story is ended... I _can't_. You're a _part_ of it... Please..._please_, just _hear_ me..."

Mavis shook, teeth grinding together as she stared at him, "I...I don't really have a _choice_, do I...?" she muttered harshly.

His head bowed as he shook it, "I'm sorry..."

He opened his arms, looking at her helplessly with such a Johnny-ish expression that Mavis felt like crying.

She goes anyway, knowing she's...giving up...


	16. Sympathy For A Devil

The shadow surprised her when, instead of moving on, he'd sat down, making her sit next to him. After a stretch of silence, he glanced at her, then away, "I can't move, until the spell relaxes..." he muttered. Mavis rubbed at her throat, not understanding, and the shadow sighed, "Your boy is...thinking this is a nightmare..." he explained, steadily taking her resulting glare, going on to explain, "When things are quiet, he will calm, and thus will the spell. So...until such, we wait." Mavis said nothing, instead just looked at the distant stars, furiously wiping at her eyes, and flinched when he moved. Johnny-who-wasn't-Johnny blinked, in the middle of raising his hand, and he grimaced, "I'm _sorry_..." he repeated, moving those last few inches to brush her hair away, "Are you...are you alri—?"

She jerked away from his touch, eyes angry, hurt slits as she bares a fang, and he starts back, a scowl on his face that quickly dissolves into remorse.

He lets his hand fall back, "It is not this boy you need to fear, lady," the shadow told her worriedly, "Please, hate _me_ as you wish, but this isn't _him_..."

". . . Until you're _out _of him," Mavis replied roughly, the faintest tremor in her voice, "You won't touch me unless it's necessary, and you're gonna think _very **carefully **_about what's necessary, got it?"

". . . Yes, lady." the shadow answered quietly, and Mavis sneered, "Is that all you say?" she snapped, "'Lady', 'boy', 'Preserver', we have freaking names, you know!"

"I know," he snapped back, indignant, "But I do not know _you, or _this boy, so I do not think I have the right to speak those names, do you?"

Mavis was taken aback for a moment, before looking away again, not wanting to see it using _his _face, "No... I guess you don't..."

The shadow nodded firmly, before picking at the torn sleeve with what sounded like admiration, "Such teeth..." he looked at her again, "I'm sorry, truly, I really am not your enemy." "You know," she fired back quickly, "I _almost_ would've bought that if you hadn't tried to _murder—_"

"I was scared," he interrupted, making her blink, "I...I _am_. Scared. I-I cannot let you run, I cannot let you go, not now, not when I am so close..."

"You're a _murderer.._." she said shakily, voicing what had run through her head the moment he'd talked about slitting boys' throats, but he shook his head, "No one ever told us it was wrong, not then," he muttered, "The pixie—_It... _You couldn't understand, the story isn't done..."

"Then finish it, get it _over_ with!" Mavis snapped, and the shadow flinched back, hurt flashing in his eyes, before settling into stone, ". . . With great pleasure, lady..."

He settled back a little, almost lazily lying back on his elbows, expression turning back to that musing kind of remembering, "That wasn't the last of it," he added, "He didn't just leave them there. When the deed was done, and the blood cooled, he opened each boy's chest, and planted a tree's seed in each heart before putting them in the Realm's earth." He ignored Mavis's quiet noise of distress, a smile spreading faintly on his face, "You don't understand. Such strong, wild, beautiful trees grew from them. He and I, we looked upon that stripling forest and felt...happy, at peace... Oh, _please_," he looked reproachful at the horrified expression on Mavis's face, "You truly do not understand, we had _kept_ our _promises._ They...they would never grow up, they would always live there in our Realm, in those woods... In those, he'd named them," he laughed slightly, now looking pained, "The 'Lost Boys' Woods'..."

"Go figure..." Mavis chuckled bitterly, and Johnny's eyes narrowed with the shadow's anger, "I do not ask for your forgiveness, Preserver," he said softly, "Nor sympathy or acceptance. I have no right to. But I do ask for understanding. We saw no true wrong. We had kept our promises, _girl_, for the better of all."

"All who? You? Oh, yeah, because killing everybody solves everything." the vampire growled.

Instead of getting angrier, though, the shadow lifted an eyebrow, "What would _you_ have had him do, then, O, wise woman?" he asked quietly, "Let them go, and let them grow, to poison and destroy his Realm as men instead of boys? Perhaps kill each _other _eventually? Men seem to have a habit of that. Or—oh, _yes_—let them go back into the land of men, naïve and alien, to be beaten and broken and _killed_ as all wildness would be."

"Or maybe not take any boys at all, ever think about _that?_"

"Often," the shadow replied lightly, now looking regretful, "I cannot deny that. But...the loneliness would loom with the loss; we'd see in those boys' faces our own fearful face, fear of the darkness, the loneliness, the anger, the raised belt, and the pixie, oh, It had us by our fears... But then, we knew where to find more boys. There would always be more boys who feared age and the weakness and harshness that age bore. Age wasn't avoidable, no, not quite, but it could be...it could be prolonged, and...merciful..." he said carefully, "And so, the Lost Boys' Woods would grow lush with trees, come every Harvest..." he watched Mavis shiver, sighing through his nose, "It...became sort of a routine, a cycle, as it went. Like the change of the seasons," he murmured, "We'd scout, save, care for, and Harvest, scout, save, care for, and Harvest..." his voice went quieter, a returning bitterness, "And with a cycle, a routine, from routine came comfort, and with comfort, contentment, and from contentment? _Pri-i-ide.._." he spat, "Once again my caster flew proudly, laughing to himself about his amazing feats, and once again his arrogance made me _retch_..." he growled, "He'd owe all that: the pixie, the Woods, the boys, to _his_ damnable cleverness? Oh, the cleverness of _he_, my caster? Yet wasn't it _my_ wanderlust that had brought us such things? The strutting _cockerel_..."

He took a breath, and exhaled slowly before he smirked at Mavis's scornful gaze, "You perhaps think me petty," he chuckled dryly, "But you must understand this at least: my caster was essentially my world, my anchor, all I had, yet had the wearisome qualities to simply be a mere _fetter_ for me... You would grow weary, too, if the very earth under your feet would constantly praise its own geography, even that which had been worn by the works of wind and water, even if it were you who'd shaped it... But I did not have to tolerate my vain 'earth'. Still, I did not want to simply tear away that time, no, that time I wanted him to _struggle_... 'Curse _me_,' I'd thought, 'Crawl after _me_, you whelp...' So, I waited, for the time when my leaving would strike the barest nerve, the best wounding... And... I suppose I did find that time, but not as any would have planned or prophecied..."

He suddenly blinked, and stared blankly at the horizon. Confused, Mavis was startled when he suddenly grinned, "Ah-h, that seemed to do it. The boy is at rest."

He stood up, but Mavis stumbled to her feet before he could reach for her, "I can walk." she said quickly, and he stared, before shrugging, and he smirked, "We were in the land of men..." he went on, and then suddenly dashed away to leap to another roof. Mavis grunted in surprise, quickly chasing Johnny's form while that maniac ran seemingly to random places, but soon after all the chasing her legs ached and the muscles locked up, and she was gasping, shaking as she supported herself against a wall, no closer to catching him, hearing him stop and casually walk back to her.

"Shy, lady?" he asked softly over her harsh breathing, and she glared at him through the tangle of her hair.

He tilted his head, "I've thought very carefully. It might be necessary to touch you now, wouldn't you say?"

"Just-just shut up and turn around already..." she growled.

He smirked, turning around and almost bowing away from her, arms held ready, "Pride's a luxury, Preserver lady..."

He grunted when she gripped his shoulders a little harder than necessary to pull herself on, but laughed through the pain, "So brutal to your lover's form?"

"Least I didn't try to snap his _neck_...?" she hissed into his ear, and felt him shiver, but he was grinning, turning to see her from the corner of his eye, "Take care, lady. My apologies, but you're making it hard...to honor restraint..." he said slowly, then smirked, "I jest, of course." and she blushed, gritting her teeth, "Just hurry _up_..." she said tiredly, and he did, soon clearing his throat to speak again, "I'm sorry, again," he said to her surprise, "I am. I am too cruel for a proper ally. I've...just never worn flesh, before. It is somewhat...inebriating..."

He went on before she could say anything, and she could swear the shadow had blushed, too, "We'd been scouting. It was not yet Harvesting time, but we enjoyed exploring the land of men, at times, when the prospect of the boys' growing depressed us."

It really was weird, hearing 'Johnny' talk like this. Having to be angry at 'Johnny' like this. Having to be wary of 'Johnny'. She was missing Johnny...

"It was an open window, like any other, in one of the nicer houses. It was...nice, sometimes, to coax children away through the prospects of 'adventure' rather than 'safety'. Those kinds of boys were in their ways the most fun. But some of the laughter from that window was strange, a voice felt off," he laughed, the motion slightly shaking Mavis, "Imagine our surprise when with those boys we found a _girl _tumbling around in her night-clothes!"

"Oh, good grief..." the vampire muttered.

The shadow chuckled helplessly for a moment, before peering back at her, calming down, "You would...not wish to hear this boy's voice talk with...with my love, I think?" he asked gently, and Mavis stared, and her expression was enough for the shadow, who nodded, facing forward, "I understand," he murmured, "I will not. But she is important to my story. It was her stories that kept us there, _him _there, her stories for her brother-boys, her words of her own wildness, weaving worlds with it. We—_he'd_ never seen a girl's wildness before. How would he? Girls were always supposed to be behind closed windows and closed eyes."

She heard the smirk, "The fey brat fell in love with her stories, seduced by her wildness, and fool he was. Night after night he'd hang about her window like cobwebs, always wondering 'and then, and then, and _then_?' She told good stories... In that I was in agreement to fly with him to roost at the nursery window, I liked listening. Of course, _It_, as the pixie, was displeased. 'What of the boys, what of the Harvest?' And so, he kept with the cycle of the promises, but remembered her stories. We...skipped collecting the brother-boys that time. Another Harvest had passed, new trees grown, and new boys found, but I was growing fed up with my caster. He hovered enough that it was getting pathetic, and the pixie was getting impatient and...curious... It was never good to invite Its curiosity, he knew that. But still, he gets the gall to sneak, to peer in as the girl slept, and there's my chance..."

He chuckled, "I made it so he startled her to wake, and in his haste to flee like some pup with its tail between his legs, I let myself get caught behind the closed window, for the third time _ripping_ free from abused skin! HAH!" he startled her with that outburst, "Oh-h-h if you could've seen his face! I...was..._laughing_... But only as loud as a shadow could laugh, heh... He can only flee while the girl blinks away the dream fluff, she knowing nothing, and for the day I am her covert company, playing in the nursery shadows... I learn, of course, for I am quiet. I felt I'd earned this, somehow, that it had been meant for me... It is through watching her and her brother-boys, that I learn it was not such a happy household. All the better to take them, I'd thought, and for once grew impatient for my caster's pursuit. It is enough, for the next night he comes as they sleep and tries to bind me to him again, but it's...different... The skin of his feet is too worn, too weak for me to stick: not wood nor stone nor metal could bind us again, and the boy finally broke and _wept_..."

The shadow was silent for a long time, and when he spoke, it was quiet, "I'd never seen him cry, had always might have longed for it, as a sign of his defeat, the killing of his pride. I thought I'd like it, but, in the end, it was just a crying boy and a _useless_ shadow..." He took a breath, and then sighed, "She woke, then, hearing his cries. He tried to salvage the scraps of his pride, but she could see. She...well, it would be sufficient to say that she healed us, with a needle and thread. She _mended _us, with thread through flesh and shadow alike, and I would never be free again as he lived. But I didn't really mind, then. I was grounded, willingly so, by her mending. My caster seduced her then, in turn, taking her and her brother-boys back to our Realm, and eventually my caster and the girl fell in what could be called love. The pixie was furious, of course, It having seen her as a distraction, as something that shouldn't have been, and sought to murder the storyteller using the other boys. The storyteller wouldn't find out until later, but... It had been a _bad_ and _bitter_ Harvest..."

Mavis was speechless as he continued, "My caster was lost himself, then, confused, and It made him an offer, to Harvest the girl and her brother-boys, and everything would be just as it should have been, memories and all... But, he couldn't, we couldn't. We broke every bit of the code we'd made, and returned the girl and her brother-boys to the land of men, for the Realm would no longer love them... Then, he'd been given a choice by _her_, to _stay_ in the land of men... And we did. And _It _never came for us, even as the girl became a lady and wife, wise in what we were, Harvests and all, and my caster became a man and husband, wise in the ways of men, yet not of men, and I grown content to be a docile shadow, to follow the light and my caster's steps, still occasionally dancing within my limits while he dreamt... Of course, just because It let us go didn't mean It set us free..."

They were by this time walking on the ground, through the outskirts of the buildings, to the more homey areas with more land between the houses. Mavis thinks she can pick out the silhouette of a church's steeple on the horizon. That seems to be where they are heading.

"It is on my caster's deathbed that It comes for him, not in the form of a pixie, but of a man, yet, someone insignificant otherwise..." the shadow murmurs, "It makes my caster remember what he once was, what he had been, what he could've been, what he is, and just before my caster breathes his last, It rips me from his feet, aged threads slipping through my essence, and I am left adrift as a bastardized shadow while my caster dies as an old man. I am weakened with docility, and vulnerable without anchor, and It takes me, then, fastening me to Its mock flesh, no true anchor, lonely and laming, and there I am for a long, _long_ time to pay due for Its vengeance..." The shadow's voice is flat and dull, making Mavis uneasy, "So lonely, so alone, so adrift, and then things stir, and It puts me out there, with Its wretched copies of me to keep me tame. I sense others then of kin loneliness, and gods help me I knew not what I'd done, so many, so lonely, so lost, and I just wanted company, but what had I _done_..."

He takes a shaky breath, breathing in, and out, "It-it is well, though. Th-they are free now, for you...you heard me, and freed me, and it is only a shadow's gratitude I can give you, a shadow of a ghost of a dead man... But it is almost done, my story is almost done, and then you, this world, this boy, _everything_ can be free of me when I am reunited with my flesh..."

"B-but your fle—isn't it—isn't he—?"

"Yes..."

Mavis turned paler, if that were possible, as they reached the church's graveyard, and the crunch of leaves seems muffled.

"H-how old _are _you...?" Mavis asked shakily, as the gravestones gradually got older and older.

"I...I know not, now, it all slipped by." he replied, "But I guess that I had been in Its captivity since long before you were a babe in your coffin-cradle. That's a long time for a human, even if I can't really be considered such anymore." "Wow, you're old, then. . . Ew." Mavis answered bluntly, which drove the shadow to mirthful hysterics, wild laughter that echoed eerily in the glooming darkness.

"Oh-h, ha-ah-ha, my caster's lady would've liked you..." he giggled, and finally reached a gravestone, putting her down. But it wasn't this stone he faced, but the huge tree next to it, the oak's branches bare and bristling up towards the stars. The shadow paced in front of it, beginning to mutter to himself while Mavis looked at the gravestone. It's face is worn too much to make anything out, but she makes out the words 'loving mother' and 'storyteller'...

"—hear me?! Can you not hear me you fey _bastard?!_" she hears the shadow scream, making her jump, and she whirls to see him kicking at the tree's roots, teeth bared in desperation, then his anger shot up quickly, as Mavis uneasily rose, "You never hear, you _never_ hear, you—damn you, you _owe this to me, brat!" _he roared, Johnny's face near unrecognizable. "I came back, alright?! I! Fucking! Came! Back! You _WIN!_" he fell to his knees now, hands fisting into the earth, shaking, "Y-you won, you won, you won, you won, I'm-I'm _sorry I'm so, so sorry_..."

The shadow collapsed, and began crying, face scrunching up with tears that splashed onto the roots, and now it's sobbing that echoes into the night...

Mavis, almost close enough to touch him, jumped again, startling back as the tree shook in one huge _ripple_, starting from the roots to shake the branch tips, and the shadow stumbled back as the earth heaved, the roots shifting and writhing beneath it with muffled snaps and creaks, the shadow looking as surprised as Mavis felt.

She sees the earth shift, bugs and things with many legs scuttling and writhing as it churned, and then a pale, dirty whiteness gleams in the starlight, and she makes out the skeletal remnants of an arm... The roots twist and stretch and part to reveal a partially uncovered skeleton, a root growing right from its ribcage, where its heart might have been... The shadow laughed, light and nervously, "Heh, f-finally hear me now, huh...?"

Then he turns to a stunned Mavis and rummages through Johnny's pockets, before offering her a shiny needle and a spool of simple black thread, "This is where you come into my story, dear lady..." he said quietly, wild, yellow-green eyes staring desperately into her own widened ones, "This is where I need you..."


	17. Goodbye and Hello

Mavis is kneeling on the dirt beside the skeleton. The shadow is partly risen from Johnny's body, while Johnny is fast asleep against the tree, almost unnaturally so.

The vampire cleared her throat, "It's—look, I know you say 'flesh' and all but there's not really much _left_ t-to..."

_I know, I know. Here, there are tendons left there, in his feet, just thread it through me and tie it off around them. _

"That doesn't sound very 'mending'. You sure that'll work?"

_Sometimes it is not the process itself, but the intent behind it that makes it work, here, just try..._

"This is still so freaky..."

_Come now, think of it as a game. Perhaps a song would help, you know—'The toe bones are tied into the—ankle bones! The ankle bones are tied into the—'_

"Oh, just shut up."

_Heh-heh, yes, lady..._

. . .

"Oh, geez..."

_No, no, it is fine, this is fine, just-just stop hesitating, it's uncomfortable when it's stuck in there... _

"But—but you're a _shadow_, what is the needle even going _throu—?_"

_And you are a being of liquid-filled, liquid-based flesh, what is the sun burning?_

". . . Touché, but still this is just—"

As she tries to tighten a knotting there is a dry, sharp **_snap_**.

"Oh... Oh-h-h, crap, crap, crap, no, I'm sorry!"

_Well... He__ never__ has been able to hold himself together around a lovely girl..._

"Sh-shut up, I'm _sorry_..."

_It is **fine**, lady. Toes are useless things to my ken, and he had hardly used them in life, whatever one would use them for... Regardless, he has nine mo—_

**Snap.**

_Alright, eigh—_

**_Crack! Crack-k-k-kle!_**

_. . . You are doing this to vex me, aren't you? _he chuckled.

"No I wasn't—it—this is _not_ _funny!_" Mavis whimpered, hands clapped to her mouth as she backed off, afraid to break anything else, breathing heavily. She's crouched there on the ground next to an unconscious Johnny, hands nervously running through her hair, until she feels coolness drift along her back, over her shoulders, and she thinks she sees the dark outline of a hand on her shoulder, almost caressing it, but she feels too shaken to really object right now.

_I do not understand this reluctance of yours, lady_, she 'hears' the shadow say gently, _Surely the matters of the dead are not so alien, so repulsive to you? _

"N-not like this," she replied shakily, "Not with the _dead-_dead."

For a moment the shadow is quiet.

_So...so there **is **true death, even among your kind? Among monsters? _

Mavis feels a bit offended, glaring at the darkness on her shoulder, "Well, yeah," she muttered, "Like you said, some things aren't meant for forever..."

_Some **would** argue otherwise... _the shadow replies lightly. _But I agree._

He waits a little longer while Mavis breathes, then she feels his presence leave, and looks up to see his outline against the tree, arms slightly raised at his sides, palms up, imploring. Dark threads trail from one foot of the shadow to the skeleton he stands over. He's not taking Johnny's shape this time, even though part of him is still connected to the human. His silhouette is a bit taller than Johnny, a little thinner, lankier, the outline of his hair is a bit shorter, but just as wild, and some roughness along the outline of his face suggested a short beard.

_Look at us, Preserver lady, _he pleaded softly, _Look at what such lost things we are, my caster and I... _

She does look, and thinks she gets his meaning. The skeleton has no shadow to it, at _all_, looking freakishly _flat _and_ fake _in what little light shows. There are no shadows in the sockets, that gleam as blank and pale as the outside, there is no shading to suggest the dip or depth of bone, looking so unreal. The shadow is surreal, looking almost unattached to reality, a sharp outline that's already starting to dissolve the longer he's without a clear anchor. A body grounds one. A shadow defines the other.

Mavis swallowed, searching for the needle again, shaky hands trying to thread it once more, "Why, um, why do you call me that?" she asks, "'Preserver'?"

She began to improvise, pushing the needle through the section of what seemed like the shadow's knee, that he held out obligingly, before trailing the silver flash of the needle down towards the skeleton's same, tongue sticking between her teeth as she tried to lever it under the kneecap, and grimaced as she felt the dry, spongy give of dried cartilage through its tip. _It is what you are, is it not? _the shadow returns, _An unusual creature, __preserved and powerful __by human's standards in human's likeness, in ways designed to gift the same. You live outside of time, outside of...of influence...outside...of...oh damn..._

Mavis looks up when his 'voice' gives out slightly, tying off the thread around the kneecap, and she chokes, accidentally dropping the needle to the ground, "Oh, no...!"

_No, wait, don't stop, please, this is fine, it's— _

"It's _killing _you, I'm _killing _you!" she protested, eyes wide. The shadow is 'leaning' against the tree, arms clutching at its leg near his knee. She can see bits of shadow actually falling away from the leg, to reveal the outline of bone, strips of dim light shining between the gaps...

_It's **accepting **me..._ the shadow soothed weakly, even as she could see the outline of his still-whole hands against the outline of his bones, _You are helping me, dear lady... _

"But this isn't...! This isn't what I—"

_What other conclusion could you have conceived? Really? _he retorted a bit more harshly, sounding like he was speaking through his teeth, sounding in pain, _This is as I should be, girl. This is what I want. And it would only be called cruel, it would only be called 'killing' should you leave me this way—a thing that is not alive in the first place to be not quite **dead**, THAT, my darling, is **killing me**..._

Mavis flinched slightly at the harshness in his voice, and tries to feel around for the needle again, a lump caught in her throat, whimpering when she feels coolness again at her side. _I am sorry, _the shadow murmurs, _I am taking something precious from **you**, aren't I? There is nothing sweet in this taking..._

Mavis shuddered, that lump in her throat becoming a choked sob between her teeth when she finds the needle. It feels very cold.

_Thank you... I-I don't know what I can give you in return_, it went on, as she kept unspooling more thread, _I've—we've never known what to give girls..._  
_  
_That actually made her laugh a little, but the shadow tells her to wait for a moment.

_Perhaps I can give something to your boy?_

"Th-that might be good..." Mavis admitted, and the shadow began stretching to the limits of his threads, flitting over Johnny, the skeleton, the tree...

_He must've left it, tell me where you left it, you—ah, yes, it is under this root, here..._

She looked for where his presence darkened, but couldn't see anything in there, and looked at him questioningly.

_You can have him take it after..._

Mavis slowly nodded, scoring the bark over the place with a rock, and felt the shadow near her again.

_I think I know what I can give you... _it murmured. She frowned, "What do you...?"

She trailed off when she felt coolness against her face.

It moved along her cheek, and then her mouth, and her eyes widened, her vision darkening like she'd put on sunglasses, and then the coolness left her lips.

"Did...did you just _kiss _me...?" she asked, surprise taking some of the edge away from anger.

_Forgive this one's transgressions, yes, I did, but not for what you think. _he replied quietly,_ It is...something I remembered. It is my own 'protection spell', though I cannot tell you its workings, for I do not fathom them myself. What I remember is that my caster's lady was somehow saved from death by his kiss, and vice versa, and yours saved your boy's, after a fashion, yes...? I did tell you, once, that a kiss can be **everything **in these matters..._

Mavis is stunned, and he spoke up again, _And yes, it did give me the excuse to kiss a lady and a nice one, at that. My caster's lady, she... Well, while she could hear me where he could not, her kisses were always for him... She had likened us to Puck, once. And who's to say we might not have been so, once? I am offensive enough, eh?_

That made her laugh a little, almost a sob, and she feels the shadow's coolness over her hand.

_Please, lady, put me to rest, for I am tired... _

She does, and keeps going, her knees cold and wet from the damp ground, working on one leg up to the knee, then the other, then the hands...

"D-doesn't this hurt...?" she asks. As she ties each part of him to each part of his caster, that part obligingly turns to the shape of bone...

He's now held there by his lower body and his hands, the shadows now falling apart to shape as ribs, starting to blend with the rest of the skeleton.

_It's...no, not exactly... It is a heavy kind of feeling... Light-heavy..._

"Are...you're okay with this?" Mavis went on to ask hesitantly, slowly looping a thread around the vertebrae near the base of the skull.

_Well... _the shadow chuckled, almost slurred, sounding nervous, tugged back slightly by the weight of the bones he was being bound to.

_I'd be lying if I said I do not feel fear. This is so strange... This must be what falling asleep feels like. _

"You don't sleep?"

The thread slips between the cracks, and she has to loop it again to get the right length, looping the needle through the bone and up into the back of his neck.

_Never. I've only known it as my caster's stillness, when he would finally stay on the ground for me... So this is...dying, yes...?_

Mavis swallowed, blinking quickly as his voice went quieter.

_Ah, you...do you weep for me, lady? _

"Don't start," she gritted out, wiping at her eyes, wiping off her hands so the wetness wouldn't make the needle slip, "This just isn't..."

_I'm sorry, _he says again, _I never wish to make a lady cry, no matter the reason... _

"So _now _you're going all freaking noble at me?!" she shouts at the shadow, whose shoulders are now melding to the skeleton's.

The shadow laughed, _Noble? __**Me**? I have been an entirely selfish creature, lady, always fueled with the lust for adventure! Now I have had my own, so great, and my caster couldn't have it! **I** saved the boy, **I** kissed the girl, **I** cheated the enemy, O, that night terror, and at last, I sleep, and by sleep, I dream—whether it be daydream or nightmare I will have it, ha-HA!_

"You really are a maniac," the vampire chuckled weakly, watery, tying off the knot, wiping at her eyes again, watching the shadow lay his head back, seeing his outline hover over the face of the skull, almost seeing the outline of a physical face. Whoever cast the shadow, she might not have called him handsome, but nice all the same.

"How's-how's _dying_ so freaking great?" she muttered.

_A memory, _the shadow said softly, sinking into the crevices, cracks, and hollows of the skeleton, _That my caster once said before It tore me from him..._

_He'd...I think he said... 'To die would be...an awfully great—...'_

Mavis waits, blinking when he goes quiet, and now she inhales shakily, when the pause stretches too long into silence.

"Sh-shadow?"

. . .

"_Shadow_...?"

Silence...

She inhales again, and slowly exhales, blowing softly, looking down at the skeleton that now has its shadows like it should... They were whole...

She shakes her head, wipes at her eyes again.

"Th-thank you..." she mumbled, at a loss, "For-for saving him. I don't think I thanked, so... Thank you..." she chuckled tiredly, "For whatever that's worth now..."

"Mavis...?"

She jumps, seeing Johnny stirring against the tree, eyes opening wearily in her direction. He smiled tiredly, "Aw, hey, is it morning al—" he blinked, quickly waking up, sitting up, and Mavis cautiously moved towards him, "No, wait, what's this, this isn't—?" he blinked again, "Oh-h-h, no, that wasn't a dream was it?"

"Johnny..." Mavis started carefully, but he's up, half-manic with sleep and shock.

"I was...I was _attacking you _and then I was, then we were—did you _bite_ m—" he blinked, his body finally catching up to tell his mind all that running he'd been doing.

"Mrguh?"

Mavis caught him before he collapsed on the ground, wincing when it pulled at the skin of her wounds, "He was sorry," she told him quickly, watching him try to focus. Man, with all that stuff the shadow did to him, he must've felt pretty beat, "He helped me, Johnny." she told him, "And...and he's...he's gone now, you don't have to worry..."

"I don'...understan'..." Johnny slurred, staggering to his feet, and Mavis gingerly supported him.

She left him against the tree, long enough to rummage for what had been left in the roots, and handed it to Johnny without looking, "He left this for you." she went on.

Johnny stared at the thing dazedly, "Pan pipes?" he muttered blankly. They were made of a dark, rich wood that practically gleamed in the starlight, carved with crude whorls and patterns, almost Celtic in design. Then they both blinked as the instrument started changing, shrinking, and a wooden harmonica of the same design sat in Johnny's hand...

". . . Tha's...trippy..." the human mumbled, and then looked at her, "M-Mavis, you're alright? What...what happen...?"

Mavis sighed, shouldering him up to get them away from the tree, while the roots creaked and stirred, beginning to cover the skeleton once more.

"Well, Johnny..." she began thoughtfully, "Once upon a time, there was a boy who never wanted to grow up..."

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

As the young couple leaves, the area of the graveyard with the giant oak tree is silent once more.

Well...almost...

There is a rustling of wood and the scrape of bark, and then a figure drops from the branches with a light _thump _and rustle of damp dead leaves. It brushes Itself off, looking at the backs of the two, and then looking at the gravestone, before looking at the tree, where the roots are still working to re-bury their prize. Those roots seem to shiver and cringe when It saunters over, bending down at the hips to peer at the dirty gleam of a shadowy skull.

"'And so, the shadow cheated the night terror, and is at long last laid to rest, where it had always belonged...'" It growled, "Doesn't that sound like a _good_ ending...?"

Its hand raises slowly to hover over the roots, and the air seems to darken and grow heavy.

"_**Once... Upon... A time...**_"

For a moment all is still, and then the hand gently closes, and drops back to Its side.

"Hm... Damn, that actually does sound like a good ending... Well, I suppose you've earned this..."

The air lightens, and It sighs, shaking Its head.

"Your story could've gone so much better, you know," It muttered, leaning against the tree, "You could've become a _legend_, never forgotten, never dead. Hey, given another few centuries, you might've become something like me, a 'night terror', infamous and feared... I gave you what you wanted, didn't I? I gave you what you needed to fight your fears, didn't I? And what do you do? You throw it away for some mortal girl with enough brains for a pretty vocabulary. You have no idea how disappointed I was..."

It looks dully over at the gravestone, before smirking, "And now you're dead, and who knows your story? Simply another one of my...investments..." It chuckled as the shadow of the tree might have shivered, "Oh, no, no, no, you did all you could for her, don't worry. I thought that was quite cute, really. A kiss, right? _Pfft_."

It crouches down, to look where the skull's face is still revealed in the shifting dirt, head tilted as It peered into the eye sockets.

"You've done all you could," It said softly, "But your story is over now, my boy."

It cleared Its throat, a formality, "'Once upon a time there was a boy who never wanted to grow up...'"

. . .

"—'and so, the shadow, after having saved the boy, kissed the girl, and cheated the night terror, is at long last laid to rest with its boy, where it had always belonged...'" It finished. It waits for a moment, and smiles at the sensation of impending finality, and then sighs, looking at the skull again.

"It wasn't...that I had been just disappointed or...or angry, that you had thrown away all I'd done for you and betrayed me..." It murmured, leaning down.

"While we're doing confessions, I may as well admit, it might have also been a little bit of jealousy..."

A kiss is pressed to the cold, dry teeth of the skull, before It straightens, watching the earth and roots finally close over the skeleton.

It sighs again, shaking Its head, "Well, I've found new things to work with, now, so you may rest." It turns to where It knows those two would still be wandering. The boy would be weak, and the girl would be tired. They could use a Good Samaritan, It thinks. It walks off, paying no more mind to the gravestone and the oak tree.

"Goodbye, little lost boy... **The End**..."

There is a moment, and then the tree stills, and settles, and It rolls the eyes It does not have to Itself at the sensation of something flying away.

"You've earned it..." It muttered. Then It smiles, thinking things over, It mustn't let these things get It down.

"'Once upon a time, a vampire girl and a human boy started on a journey...'" It began. Oh, yes, that sounded like a _good_ beginning...


	18. Uh-Oh

Mavis is kind of freaking out, now that the immediate crisis was taken care of. She's kind of lost, it looks like the sun might be rising soon, and Johnny is nearly passed out from who know's what. He's trying, she knows he's trying, but she's still pretty much dragging a deadweight, and her wounds aren't helping.

"Should tell me res' of story when 'm awake..." he chuckled weakly, before groaning, eyes unfocused with fatigue, "This almost bad as tha' concert crawl, 'm sorry..."

"It's okay," she says frantically, nearly tripping, gritting her teeth, this hurt, "No, it's okay, Johnny. Just-just please stay awake for me, okay, we just need to get back..."

She thinks she hears him mumble something like the sea monkey took his taxi fare _a-a-and_ he's out. Crap.

So now Mavis is kind of lost and technically alone. Awesome. Should she try the scanning thing? But that was tricky in an unfamiliar locat—

_"Hallå?"_

She starts up at the voice, looking into the darkness. It's Miss, Miss is slowly walking towards them through the gravestones, face blank.

Mavis is torn, is this a bad thing or...? Should she try to hypnotize the human?

"Ah, Mavis, yes?" Miss asked, suddenly smiling, and the vampire nodded hesitantly.

"I saw, I wondered, so I followed," Miss explained, the smile turning to a smirk, "I hope I did not scare you...?"

"Um..." the girl mumbled, "I'm not sure what this looks like but—"

"No," Miss shook her head, suddenly circling around her, and Mavis, encumbered by Johnny, can't turn around, "No, no, no, don't worry, you don't need to explain," she heard the semi-stranger soothe, "I understand... And I think it's _cute_." she says, almost in Mavis's ear. The vampire suddenly felt a full shudder wrack through her body, her skin feeling cold, the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck prickling. Those words somehow sounded wrong.

"I won't tell anyone," Miss continues lightly, and suddenly she's shouldering the other side of a semi-conscious Johnny, helping Mavis, "Let's go back, now."

Mavis can only comply, stunned. Why did the woman's words sound so wrong? It felt like her wings wanted to rip from her arms, but her back stung in warning.

"Stupid boy," she hears Miss say laughingly, gently jostling the young man between them, "No manners to make the woman walk. _Fan_, you must have worn him out..."

Mavis flushed, her face feeling hot, "N-not like that..." she mumbled in protest, but figured it must have seemed _exactly _like that.

She feels Miss's hand ruffle the back of her head, almost petting it, and Mavis wants to shrink away, but she can't let Johnny go.

"You worried me, you would worry others..." Miss said in warning, "There are things in the nighttime that will not look with kind eyes, as you know. There are better settings for...these sorts of things, nicer places, hm?" the woman said sternly, but Mavis hears her smile, "So no need to wander so _far_ in the future, _yes?"_

The poor vampire nodded mutely, shivering again when the woman's hand, and its nails, ghosts over the back of her neck, nearly scraping the scar tissue.

"Good girl." Miss said softly, and then her hand is gone, and Mavis feels like she can breathe. This human made her very uncomfortable. This one was _weird_.

For a while they walk in relative silence, while Miss hums some song under her breath, and Mavis speaks up, "Uh, sorry if this is rude," she asks, "But what's your story?"

Miss slowed, angling her head to stare blankly at Mavis over the slumped form of Jonathan, and now Mavis felt uncomfortable for asking that.

". . . You are _curious_ about me?" Miss asked slowly, and the vampire nodded uneasily. Miss seemed to smile, "It's rare that some are _curious_ about me..."

Mavis looked away, trying to stammer out an apology, but is overridden, "It is no bad thing, curiosity," Miss assured her.

"I remember another girl who was curious. Actually had a habit for wandering, too, always 'curiouser and curiouser'. She'd been a nice girl... As it is, a story? I don't have one. Worked in many, yes, but none to call my own..."

"I don't understand..." Mavis admitted, and heard the woman chuckle.

"And that is fine," she assured Mavis, another pet to the vampire's hair that made Mavis shudder, "It is your own self you should learn to understand, I think... Ah, here."

A bike is parked at the edge of the graveyard. It's a home-rigged electric bike, with a wagon attached to it. Mavis remembers that this bike is often used to go out and scavenge for supplies. Miss helps Mavis settle Johnny into the wagon, before getting Mavis to rest on top of him. "You are lighter," she tells Mavis, smiling wryly, "Just mind his pulse if you worry, eh?"

Mavis uneasily curls next to and partly on top of Johnny, while Miss starts to wheel up the bike, taking them away from the graveyard.

"Go back to sleep, now," she hears the stranger say over the crunch of gravel, the whine of the battery and the bump of the wagon, "He'll be there for you..."

Mavis is uneasy, but slowly realized the sleep her body had waited for, and Johnny's warm, and here, and himself...

. . .

It smiles over Its shoulder as It sees the two asleep in the cradling of the wagon, faces soft and restful and sweet, and It takes a moment to indulge. It envisions all that they could become, that they could do, and would do, to themselves, to others, to each _other_, oh what they would _understand_...

Yes, It feels these two would be a _worthy _project...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

_**A Brief Note:**_

_If anyone would wonder of Mavis's unrest,_

_Recall her dream in the chapter 'Little Black Vest'..._

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

The next morning, Avril had been waiting on those two, and, frowning, heads towards their apartment when neither one reports in.

Miss intercedes before he can leave the mess hall, and he blinks. The woman barely put herself forward, so this was unusual.

"The children are sleeping," she tells him, a strange smile on her face, "They...had a long night..."

He blinks, but now he has a wry grin on his face to match hers, "Ah, understood..." he chuckles.

Eh, not the best work ethic for the second day, but what's an old man to begrudge that?

This is probably the first place that actually felt 'stable' for those two in a long while, what with all their backpacking and all...this.

"Let 'em rest," he decides, "But give them some hell when they're up, right? Can't have that kind of thing becoming a 'habit'."

Miss nodded obligingly, before going to help with breakfast cleanup.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Jonathan wakes up before Mavis does, and takes the quiet time to think, or at least try to. About the story, the shadow, whatever _It _is, though he thinks he has a good idea, and that scares him. For a moment he just sits there, stripped down to an undershirt and boxers. He remembers going to bed, and then strange dreams. Starts out a good dream, almost in bed with Mavis, those were always good dreams, or at least usually were, and then there was a kind of running dream, but... He remembers dream-Mavis screaming his name, and then he remembers her running away, though he didn't want her to go, and then—_pain_. He looked at his forearm, grimacing slightly at the distinct-shaped gougings, near-perfect semicircles torn into his flesh, at that stage of healing that's a glistening, raw meat-y look that comes before proper scabbing...

He was wrapping up bandages around it when he sensed her stirring.

". . . Hey," he said quietly, making sure to smile, looking over her as she sat up, heavy circles under her eyes. He probably looked just as bad. "How're you?"

She wordlessly turned to him, focused on his eyes, then he watched her gaze trail down to where he's still wrapping up the...the bite...

He keeps wrapping it up, but keeps an eye on her, and he practically sees her pupils dilating at the sight of the pinkish spots blooming through the bandages, he sees even from across the room. She blinks, and now she looks horrified, "Johnny, I'm sor—"

"Wait a moment," he murmurs quickly, tucking in the end, then turns to sit and face her, proper, looking her straight, "Alright... Alright, alright, I know some freaky stuff just happened," he started carefully, "Just answer me this: how long _was_ _**he** _here, and did he..." He swallowed, remembering some of the stronger feelings in that dream-nightmare-thing, "Did he _hurt_ you?"

Mavis first paled, then blushed, before just going pale again, and Johnny felt his jaw set.

"When you were caught in that _stuff_," Mavis told him quietly, "Since that'd happened. It was...something he was a part of, or it was made from him, I don't know. I tried getting you out, but I couldn't without him, believe me, I tried. He took your 'shadow', which I guess meant he could take you. He got you out." She could see that muscle tensing in his cheek, but she made herself go on, "He...only did what he felt he had to," then she realized how that sounded at seeing Jonathan's expression and quickly said, "But that doesn't mean that he—!"

She's cut off when Johnny quickly gets up from his cot to walk towards her, "Wait..." he says quietly, standing in front of her, frowning in what looked like concentration.

Mavis watched, tight-lipped and wide-eyed, when Johnny gently rolls his head down, then side to side, eyes closed in focus until she hears a _pop _as he works out the cricks in his spine, and her throat tightens. She sees him looking at her, and he hums in thought, straightening his head with a reassuring nod, "It's just me. Trust me, Mavis." he tells her, and then kneels before she can respond, and she feels his knuckles brush against her bare ankle, and an embarrassing noise escapes through her teeth as she curls away onto the cot. He seems to ignore that, frowning in concentration as his hand then moves to her hand, gently pressing his thumb to her palm before loosely wrapping his own hand around her wrist. His fingers are long enough and her wrist is thin enough that he can easily circle it with his thumb and forefinger. He then surprises her by taking his other hand to her arm, and makes a show of walking his hands up her arm until he reaches her shoulders, where he then gently pushes her back down on the cot, and Mavis is too stunned, too confused to resist. He slowly moves until he's over her, knees at either side of her waist, gauging her reaction, concentrating on the foggy dream-memory while his hands framed her face, gently stroking under her eyes and then her cheekbones, feeling dampness there...

"It's just me, Mavis... It's only me, now. _Only _me." he repeated, watching her as he slowly moves his hands until his thumbs are resting on those soft spots under her jaw, and then lower, until he can feel her pulse beat in her neck. Her eyes are wide and she looks shaken, and Jonathan holds her stare evenly, letting his hands drop away, letting her relax, "See?" he asks, smiling, and then they both blink. A rush to the head, a flash of something when their eyes meet. _Zing._

Now it's Johnny who's pushed down into the cot, grunting at the force used.

"Let's just say that if you ever wear green contacts I will _hurt _you." Mavis said flatly, before kissing him.

He takes her roughness, she knows she's being rough, and he knows why, so even when her fangs snag near dangerously on his lips, even when it's more the scraping of teeth and tongues than an actual kiss, he takes it, until she calms down and is simply pressing her face under his jaw, and now it's her turn to 'test' him.

She brushes her mouth along the edge of the bone felt through his skin, until she's at that insanely soft patch of skin behind the curve of the jaw and under the ear, and hears his wordless mutter, feels him shiver when she sneaks just a taste, just a small one, getting the taste of sweat and something that hints at something wonderful, and carefully keeps her lips closed tight against the curve of her fangs. She moves slowly down along the column of his throat, eyes closed as she feels him swallow and breathe and beat under the now hyper-sensitive surface of her mouth, and she thinks about it, and then abruptly _hums _against his skin, making him quickly laugh and convulse in surprise, and she sits up, giving him some space to breathe, looking down at him.

". . . I _missed_ you." she said simply, and when he caught his breath he nodded in understanding, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face.

She lets him, eyes unfocusing for a moment, as he'd used the arm she'd bitten, and he watched her look at his neck again. Then she backs off and away from his touch, and he sits up with concern as she is suddenly at the other side of the room, "G-give me a minute." he hears, she sounding a bit short of breath, and he understands that too, feeling for that spot where she'd licked him. He couldn't kid himself otherwise, what _that_ had been about...

". . . It's okay, you know." Jonathan told her.

. . .

He sees Mavis raise her head, but she doesn't turn around.

Her reply is quiet, controlled, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Johnny opens his mouth to point out they both know _exactly _what he's talking about, but that was a big mistake.

She's in front of him again in a blink, staring evenly at him and his fish-face expression.

"Six cups left," she states, "Twelve days. I had two cups yesterday. I'll be having a cup _tomorrow_ evening, and then another the second day after that, and so on, bleah, bleah, bleah. One cup every two days, _that_ was the deal." She leans in, and rests her forehead against his, "When we reach _three _cups," she continued softly, "Which should be in...hm, six days, the halfway mark, _then _we can talk about our options." her eyes narrowed, her mouth a breath away from his, "Until then, Johnny," she whispered, "None of it is even gonna _cross_ your crazy mind. 'Kay?"

Jonathan closed his mouth, staring, and then surprised her when he tilted his head, leaning in, brushing their foreheads together.

"Honestly can't make any promises for me," he admits just as quietly, "So what about it crossing _yours?" _

Her eyes narrow at his, but he, unfazed, kisses her, feeling her automatically relax before she backs away, that cold look still on her face. He watches her, regretting that jab now, knowing he's messed up, tries to take it back, but before they can talk anymore there's knocking at their door, making them both start.

Mavis glances at the door, then at him, her expression slightly easing up.

"Love you, Johnny." she mutters quietly, going to answer it when it gets more persistent. ". . . I love you, too, Mavis." he replies simply, looking at the scars he can see over the neckline of her shirt while her back was to him, rubbing a hand almost absently over his arm's bandages...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

It had been Ellie at the door, carrying chores from Avril. Mavis and Johnny are kept busy for the rest of the day, so they rarely have time to look at each other much less talk, which was probably a good thing for the moment. They probably wouldn't have liked what they'd see.

Mavis is with Ellie, and currently confused.

"Alright," the vampire finally asks, sitting on one of the benches in what seems like a locker room. They'd been here for a good fifteen-twenty minutes.

"I give, _wha-at_ are we doing here?"

"Waiting on the water," Ellie replied easily, pointing at the pipes that snaked across the ceiling, "Hopefully they're gonna fix the flow to the showers today. I'm tired of washing my hair using a sink. _We_ are calling dibs. And frankly, I think we _should_. I mean, no offense, but you kinda smell funny."

Mavis blinks, "Oh."

She looks at the pipes, then at Ellie, then tries to subtly sniff at her own sleeves.

A few more minutes drag by, and Ellie scowls, "You'd think them having your boyfriend up there would help stuff."

When Mavis shrugged, muttering, "Maybe." Ellie looked at her, reading the body language.

The human girl grinned, "Oh-oh? Trouble in paradise?"

"Not quite." Mavis growled uncomfortably, now really hoping they'd get those pipes fixed, so a shower would distract the girl.

Ellie was not to be deterred, asking bluntly, "If you dump him, can I have him?"

Mavis's reply was quick, shocked, and snarling, "_No!_"

Ellie chuckled, rocking on her seat, "Touch-y!"

Suddenly there was a slight metallic rumble, and both girls looked up as the pipes began to rattle and thump.

Ellie whooped, running into the back rooms that contained the showers, boyfriends ex or otherwise forgotten, "Check the stalls! Check all the sta-a-alls!"

Mavis followed, now feeling just as eager. She did kind of smell funny.

It was a trial-and-error process that was actually kind of fun to perform. Some of the shower heads dripped or trickled with old residue, some just didn't work at all, until they finally found one that gave a decent lukewarm spray. Mavis blinked as Ellie promptly started to strip.

"Uh-hm..." Mavis started uneasily.

Ellie snorted, "Hey, if you wanna go spend another half hour finding your own, be my guef'f," she told Mavis, temporarily muffled by her shirt. "Or oo fan—_bwuh_—or we can share, efficiency and all that crap, who knows how long this is gonna last..." She scowls when Mavis just stands there, "Well, hurry up either way, this is just like a changing room! What are you, homeschooled?"

"Yup." Mavis replied bluntly, raising an eyebrow as Ellie had the decency to look cowed, "Oh."

Mavis hesitantly shed her coat and shoes and socks, much more slowly, and Ellie laughed, already down to her under...stuff, "Well, whatever, we're all girls here," she jibed, "And don't worry, I don't swing that way." The vampire was shucking her pants, feeling a bit more at ease, when she heard the girl add almost thoughtfully, "Least I don't think I do." Mavis blushed, getting it over with and dumping her clothes on a dry patch, unwrapping her back to let it air out, and was turning around to step in when she heard Ellie mutter something, "What is _that?__"_

"Wh-what's what?" Mavis asked uneasily, wide-eyed as a naked Ellie suddenly tried to get around her. "What is it?"

"How deep does that _go?_ Is that a burn? That's a burn, right? Can I touch it?" she heard Ellie ask, and saw the girl was trying to look at her back, "What _happened _to you?"

"Oh," Mavis craned her neck, feeling what scar tissue she could, grimacing, remembering how it might look, "Um, long story. How bad is it?"

"It looks _wicked!" _Ellie squealed, with what sounded like horrified fascination.

"I take it that's...a good...thing...?" Mavis asked, uncomfortable at the proximity of mutual nudity.

"Well, I mean, obviously not _good_, no," Ellie mumbled, making Mavis snarl at her almost-prodding, "But it looks awesome. What did you _do?" _

"I saved...I... Let's just wash up." Mavis said quickly, jumping into the slightly cold spray, and yelped when Ellie shoved her a bit to step in herself.

"You realize changing the subject's gonna make me more interested in said subject, right?" she heard the human say cheekily.

Mavis rolled her eyes, determined to _not _look at the girl, "Ne-ver would'a guessed..." the vampire grumbled, hissing as the water hit her back.

"Agh, crap, sorry!" Ellie panicked.

"'S fine..." Mavis ground out.

For a moment they're spent just rinsing out their own hair, and Mavis sighs, feeling the grit and grime wash from her scalp and skin, when Ellie speaks up again.

"Your boyfriend...he does your bandages, right?"

". . . Yeah, most of the time, yeah..." Mavis confirmed.

But the human kept asking, "That means he had to have seen you at least half-naked, right?"

Mavis glared at the girl, blushing, keeping her eyes on the girl's face, ". . . What're you getting at?" she grumbled, but Ellie just looked shocked.

"And you two haven't done _anything?" _the girl asked disbelievingly, and Mavis faceplanted the wall tile with a wet _thunk_.

". . . Okay, I'm good." the vampire decided, but Ellie turns off the shower with a rusty _squeak_, feet slapping the floor.

"No, no, no, hey, you had to have at least done _something!" _the persistent girl protested as Mavis shook herself out, brushing off excess water. "You know, the whole 'romantic survivor' thing or at least—...!" Mavis is confused when the girl suddenly cuts off.

_"Oh jävla skit." _Ellie says, and Mavis turns to see what's wrong. Ellie is pale, staring in growing horror at some point over Mavis's shoulder. Mavis turns to see what she sees, and blinks, not understanding. It's just a mirror, there's Ellie's reflection, and... Oh. Mavis wants to facepalm herself.

There's _just_ Ellie's reflection.

Right, for humans it's not _normal_ to not show up in mirrors.

Oops.

"Ellie," she begins uneasily, turning back to face her, "I can expl—"

But the human girl had already rummaged through her bag, and was coming at Mavis with something shiny in her hand...


	19. The Calm Before The—

"That should do it. Gents, we have showers." Elliot commented, stepping back with Johnny as they observed the pumps now roll in motion, slightly sticking with disuse, electricity running them once more. Johnny nodded happily, going to wipe off his hands and face. "Still not good for drinking," the older man continued to observe, frowning, "Will have to keep boiling any to drink until we get the water heater fixed. But it'll make water transport a lot easier. We'll have to be careful, though, until we're sure the well's still working. Course, knowing Ellie, she's probably testing it right now..."

"'Probably' nothing," Avril chuckled, clicking off the lamps and packing up their tools, "Good work, boys."

"Calls for a drink!" Oscar decided with a strange grin, running out of the dimly lit maintenance room, and the remaining group rolled their eyes.

". . . What? It's _his_ liver." Marcus replied idly when the other men looked pointedly at him. Then Marcus suddenly turned to look at Jonathan, dull, dark eyes scanning him over in thought, ". . . I don't remember _that_ being there yesterday." he finally said, gesturing to his arm.

Johnny blinked politely, and then looked down, grimacing internally. Crud. His sleeve had gotten pushed up during the work, exposing a bit of bandage, unfortunately showing a part that was still slightly stained with a distinct, incriminating shade of pink. Oops.

Jonathan rubbed the back of his head as the others waited patiently for an explanation. It'd be bad to try and pass this off as nothing, but... "I'm sorry... I'll spill," Jonathan sighed, smiling nervously, "I'm sorry. Um, me and Mavis, we...we went out last night to take a walk. There was a dog out there, and I got bit."

Avril made an 'ah' sound, and they all looked at him.

"Miss covered for you, you know." he explained, staring evenly at Jonathan, who was feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Faceless had showed up? What? "And I _was_ going to look over it," the old man continued quietly, "But you two actually _left_ the base, knowing what's out there? Why?"

Elliot looked uncomfortable near his father, but also curious. Marcus just looked...observant, but disinterestedly so...

Johnny was slightly praying for something to happen so he could get out of this, but considering all that _could_ actually happen, he quickly gave up that thought.

"I've got no good explanation, sir." he said simply, preparing for whatever they'd reply.

There are a few beats of silence, while Jonathan feels scrutinized, and then Avril shrugs, breaking the tension, "Alright."

Jonathan blinked as Elliot relaxed, Marcus seeming to lose interest enough to continue packing. He looked at Avril. Okay, he wasn't prepared for _that_.

"Alright? Just like that?" he asked uneasily, pulling the sleeve back down to cover it.

"Sure," the old man replied, an amused smile tugging slightly at his mouth, "We all have our secrets, kid. You want to keep yours, that's just fine. You handled shadows, who'm I to judge what you can do? Least you don't try to lie for it. So long's you don't do anything too stupid, don't do anything too dangerous, we're fine."

"Thank you..." Johnny said, slightly stunned, and helped carry the rest of the supplies back to the stockroom.

"A dog bite, though," Avril commented, "That's not something to brush off. Wanna have it looked at?"

"Oh, nah, I treated it, thanks," he replied, almost too quickly. He couldn't have them see it. With the bite pattern, there was no way he'd be able to pass it off as a dog's, and not as a human's either, come to think of it, "It wasn't too deep, got more skin than anything, y'know?"

The old man nodded, and Johnny mulled through his thoughts, sifting through the dream-memory.

Come to think of it, he was pretty sure her bite had been enough to scrape bone, yet he was already near-healed enough to proper scarring and scabbing.

A 'spell', huh?

He'd have to check that out.

But later, there was still work to do. He'd get to see Mavis around dinnertime...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

The silence of the shower room is punctured by the erratic, lonely drip-dripping of the now abandoned shower stall...

_Drip..._

Drip...

_Drip_...

Eyes meet eyes uncertainly, as those two young women stay frozen in their positions.

Confusion, shock, and uncertainty are prevalent as their pounding heartbeats slowly eased...

_Drip..._

_Drip-drip_...

It is Mavis who clears her throat first.

"Alright, I'm not sure what you're doing, but I don't think this is doing what you think it should be doing..." the vampire mumbled, somewhat indignantly.

Ellie started back a little bit, but firmly continued to press the crude metal crucifix against Mavis's cheek, frowning, "This should work, give it a moment." she muttered defiantly, eyes wide, the human girl seeming too determined to do much else. She glared accusingly when nothing continued to happen, backing off when Mavis raised an eyebrow, "This isn't working. Why isn't this working? What's wrong with you?!" she protested, frantically waving the cross in Mavis's face, who backed off, nose wrinkling, "I could ask the same thing." Mavis replied, disgruntled.

"You're a vampire!" Ellie continued, now fully backing off, shock reclaiming her psyche as she now clearly saw Mavis's fangs, "Vampires are real. Those are real?!"

"Yup." Mavis admitted, "Look, Ellie, I'm _sor_—"

"No, no, no, hang on," the girl continued, confusing Mavis, "You're supposed to reject holy stuff, so why didn't that work?"

". . . 'Scuse me?"

"You know, unholy demon, literal Godforsaken creature, bleah, bleah, bleah?"

"I'm _Baptist_." Mavis retorted, somewhat insulted.

Ellie blinked, and then sat down, disregarding their states of undress, "O..._kay_..." she said, actually sounding somewhat disappointed, "So the cross thing's out?"

"The cross thing's out."

"How about garlic?" the human girl went on.

Mavis made a face, "Food allergy, hereditary."

"Silver?"

"Stings, kind of. Like your poison oak would to you."

She remembered Johnny landing in a patch of the stuff, once. It had been both funny and painful to watch him heal.

"Oh. Stake through the heart?" Ellie continued to ask bluntly, but was starting to sound dejected.

Mavis was kind of disturbed at this point, "Who wouldn't that kill?"

"You can't enter places unless invited?"

"Well, it's more polite to have permission," Mavis admitted, watching the girl's growing crestfallen expression, "Um, you're taking this well." Mavis tried to soothe.

"No, I'm not," Ellie retorted, "I'm spazzing out on the inside, trust me. Okay, sunlight?"

Mavis crossed her hands in front of her face, "Okay, yeah, sunlight's a no go." she growled, quickly adding "Don't try anything."

"Who? Me?" Ellie asked blankly, and then went on, "Fire?"

"I don't know, how do _you_ react to fire?" Mavis said back, smirking, deciding not to answer that.

Ellie winced, "Gotcha. Can you cross moving water?"

Now Mavis frowned, "Why wouldn't I be able t—? You're starting to lose me."

"So long as you don't sparkle, we're cool." Ellie decided.

Mavis leaned back against a sink, not sure whether to laugh or groan, smirking in disbelief, "Now you're just messing with me."

_"OhmyGod no you're a vampire!"_ Ellie suddenly surged up with a shriek, making Mavis jump as the girl pointed, "You have freaking _fangs!" _

The girl turned to run, but Mavis was there, holding up her hands pleadingly, "W-wait, Ellie, please, I know this seems bad, but if you'd just calm d—"

"Don't eat me!" Ellie protested, running back to her bag, but Mavis had already misted to it and snatched it up, taking it with her to the ceiling.

Who knew what else the girl had in this thing.

She glared at the human, "If I hadn't eaten you before what makes you think I'd eat you _now?" _she protested, "I'm a substitarian!"

Ellie paused, blinking, "And now you're freaking Spiderman. Wait, a _what?"_

"I _don't_ drink human blood." Mavis emphasized, deciding not to mention that she'd tasted it, regardless... "A-anyway, why would you think I would?"

"V-vampires prefer virgins, don't they? And that's what vampires _do!_" Ellie whimpered, staring up at Mavis as she stood on the ceiling, "How are you _doing _that?"

"I just can," Mavis replied simply, frowning, thinking about what Ellie had said, then blinked, "Wait, you're a virgin?" She couldn't help busting out laughing at Ellie's insulted expression, "Sorry, sorry, oh, geez, b-but..." she was blushing, grinning like an idiot, "But h-how—_hah_—how does virginity affect blood?"

Ellie opened her mouth to reply, then closed it, nonplussed, "It's...just what... Um, it's because..." now she looked sheepish, ". . . I don't know."

"Ri-ight... Anyway, I don't bite." Mavis told her, grinning, and Ellie blinked up at her, and then pointed at her fangs, "Can I touch 'em?" the human asked bluntly.

Mavis blinked, stepping back and away slightly, shaking her head, going slightly pale, even as her teeth started to ache, "Nope, bad idea."

Ellie stared, then shrugged, and then surprised Mavis by going to her jacket and taking a small gun out of the pocket and aiming it at the vampire.

"You're cool, Mavis, really," Ellie tells her, the human girl's hands are slightly shaky, "But this is weird and kinda scary and-and I don't know what else to do, so..." Mavis's eyes widened, but Ellie went on to say, "I'm gonna have to tell the others about you, okay? Come down from there and let's go."

". . . Wait, what?"

"You, me, we go. I need to tell the others this thing, sorry."

"You're not going to shoot me?" Mavis asked.

Ellie blinked, "What? No!"

"Th-then what's with the gun?" Mavis asked uneasily, glaring at it, pupils almost becoming slits. The human shivered.

Ellie then scowled, gesturing with the firearm, "You still lied to me, so this makes me feel better. Safer. Doesn't mean I'm gonna _use_ it. Maybe. Look, can we just go?"

Mavis stared, "Um..." she hazarded, "Yeah, but I think we should put our clothes on, first..."

Ellie blinked, looking at Mavis, then looking down at herself, and finally the human girl blushed.

"Oh, right, yeah..."

After they're dressed, they walk out, and immediately run into Oscar, who'd clearly been lurking in the locker room..

He abruptly flinched away from Mavis.

All three are frozen.

"Uhm..." Oscar muttered, glancing from Ellie to Mavis, most notably to Mavis's fangs, "Came to let you know the...showers were running, or was, um, checking..."

Silence.

"So-o," he laughed nervously, looking at Mavis in a way that made her uncomfortable and somewhat ticked off, "Vampire, huh?"

Silence.

". . . You can eat _him._" Ellie suggested.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Jonathan had by now felt he'd be able to expect and deal with crazy stuff happening.

Mavis being brought into the mess hall at gunpoint was not on that list.

He got up without thinking, eyes narrowing at the gun, a subtle whine like a bad lightbulb starting to build in his ears. Ellie flinched at his expression while Oscar quickly raised his hands, "Not me!" the man exclaimed, hurriedly going to his place at the table under the shocked stares, "I'm as in the dark as you are! Not drunk!"

"Johnny, it's okay," Mavis said quickly, seeing how he looked, "She's just freaked. It's...it was a mirror, I'm sorry."

"Ellie!" Alice protested, staring in horror at her sister. Elliot was already edging around the two, frowning at the gun.

"Ellie," Avril said slowly, standing up to look at the girl, while keeping a wary eye on Jonathan, "Why are you aiming that _thing _at a comrade?"

Ellie cringed under his stare, clearly not having thought through this far, and looked at Mavis, who groaned and looked at Johnny. Wordlessly, they agreed.

". . . I'm...I'm a vampire. That's why." Mavis said quietly.

A few beats pass.

The reactions were mixed.

Johnny was subtly moving towards Ellie with a wary expression on his face, keeping his eyes on the gun, on the others' faces.

Elliot blinked, but held his position, expressing concern.

Alice was looking at Mavis, holding baby David a little closer with a slightly stunned expression.

Oscar just looked embarrassed, and slightly confused, uneasily anticipatory.

Marcus's reaction was perhaps the most subtle. Dark, dull eyes were suddenly a bit more open, a bit more awake, and he was looking at Mavis with something like _interest_, knife stopping its scrawlings, the tip settled to stillness on the tabletop... In the background, in the doorway, in the shadows, nearly out of sight, Faceless was _smiling_. Jonathan swallowed.

But Avril was just looking at them...

"I figured one of you was _something_," he said tiredly, glancing between Mavis and Johnny, surprising everyone. "Ellie, put the gun away and apologize to your friend."

"B-but—"

The old man's eyes narrowed, "What you're holding is a _responsibility_, kiddo, and you've held it well, so far, for your judgement. Don't break that streak now."

Ellie blinked, and then swallowed, putting the gun back into her pocket. Truth be told she'd never even taken off the safety catch.

"Sorry." she mumbled, moving away from the vampire girl.

Mavis nodded, looking with regret at Alice and her baby.

Ellie for a brief moment looked back at Johnny, but he'd already relaxed once she'd put the gun away, only having eyes for Mavis. Then Ellie looked between Johnny and Mavis, eyes widening a fraction, but didn't say whatever had crossed her mind, simply going to sit next to her sister, subdued.

Avril took a breath, and let it out slowly, leaning against the table, watching as Johnny moved to check Mavis over, absently feeling her still-wet hair.

"Shadows exist," Avril commented as they looked at him, "And it's been announced that so do monsters, whatever form they take... So why _not_ a vampire?"

"Sir, we—" Jonathan started, but the old man held up a hand, effectively silencing him.

". . . A few months back," Avril sighed, "We all were moving with a refugee group, under military escort."

Johnny noticed how the other survivors tensed slightly, even Marcus.

"Through this area," the old man went on, gesturing vaguely. "It was strange at first, that this was literally a ghost town, everyone had camped here, anyway. But the shadows work best in communities, among relative strangers, like wolves in a sheep flock. It was just unfortunate that some of those strangers had guns to misuse." Avril shrugged, "Panic, bullets, fear, blood, men shooting at the shadows, at spooks, at people, at _children_..."

Alice held David closer, and Ellie went pale, huddling into her sister. Elliot moved to comfort his wife.

Jonathan and Mavis's throats went dry.

Johnny could see Faceless still calmly smiling.

Avril looked at his family, at Marcus and Oscar, at Miss, who in a blink looked the haggard survivor, only for the smile to grow back when the old man looked away.

"People fought back of course," he went on, "Got some guns for themselves. We did, too. Still, shadows followed anyone who had a gun to shoot, hands to strangle, eyes and ears to deceive. But most of us managed to get away without shooting anyone or getting eaten."

"Most of—?" Johnny began.

"My wife." Avril said quietly, and Elliot looked tight around the eyes, and now it was Alice's turn to comfort her husband. "In running, a bullet took Renée's leg," he went on, in a dead voice, "The shadows were quick to take the rest..." he took a shaky breath, "It...it was how we managed to escape the shadows, really, in the end. They should not have used the voice of one who we knew was dead."

Jonathan looked around, to see that Elliot had turned his face away, shoulders tense.

". . . And then you two show up," Avril continued, "And in a night, the shadows are gone..."

Johnny and Mavis look at these people, throats slightly stuck and feelings uncertain.

"There are monsters, yes," Avril concedes, looking at Mavis in particular, "But if so, you must be one of the good kinds. You two have _my_ gratitude, at any rate."

They look around, and Avril's family seems to share his sentiments.

The two begin to relax, until questions arise.

"You're a vampire," Oscar observed slowly, bringing their attention to him. He looked slightly unfocused, "Does...does that mean you can bring people _back...?" _

Mavis remembers the zombies and ghosts, but thinks about how a human would think, and shakes her head, "Not in the way you'd want." she said quietly.

Oscar stared, before scowling, getting up and leaving, "Gonna go get a drink..."

Marcus stirs when they look at him in question, and he shrugs, "Not _my _place to tell," he said quietly, staring at Mavis, then glancing at Johnny's arm.

Something stirs behind his eyes, "So, he's who you feed on?" he asked bluntly.

Mavis recoiled slightly, hostility in her face.

"No." Johnny replied bluntly, coming slightly between Mavis and the man's gaze. He didn't like the man's eyes.

"She's a substitarian," Ellie spoke up suddenly, rolling her eyes, "Doesn't drink human blood, it's kinda embarrassing, really."

"'Scuse you?" Mavis growled, and the human girl smirked at her.

"You don't? She's a what?" Marcus asked, irritation wrinkling his forehead.

"Blood substitute." Mavis explained, still glaring at Ellie.

"A 'dog bite'?" Marcus suddenly snarled, gesturing with his knife to Johnny's arm, and the couple stills.

Jonathan glares as Mavis looks away.

"Shadow residue," Johnny says coldly, "An accident..."

Marcus stares, opens his mouth, but Avril intercedes, "That's enough. Their reasons are their own, and we will respect that."

That seems to settle things, as Marcus's eyes slowly fall back to a duller darkness, "Yes, sir." he mutters, finally looking away from Mavis, "Sorry."

Mavis looks at Alice, who, after a moment, smiles, and asks Mavis if she wants to hold David again...

Jonathan relaxes, then, as he talks to Avril, a bit more open about he and Mavis's current situation, at least in traveling conditions. It feels good, then, to finally have someone to talk to with this. "I'm sorry about your wife." he says sadly, glancing at Mavis, who was making little peek-a-boo faces at the baby, "I know someone kind of like you in that..."

Avril nodded, "Sometimes things happen that we don't understand or...or can't easily accept..." the old man admitted, "Best we can do is cherish what we do have."

He looks at his son, and his son's family, and Johnny smiles at the weary contentment in the man's face, nodding in agreement.

Things, for once, felt like they might be okay.

With a bit of hope in his chest, Jonathan looks at Faceless, as if to show It 'See?'

That bit of hope ebbs somewhat, though, is chilled, when he actually looks at Faceless.

Faceless is still smiling...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Oscar stares morosely at the now empty beer can, chin on the tabletop, knocking it over with one finger with a tinny _clang_.

"You're pathetic." he hears a voice mutter, and rolls his eyes as Marcus plunks down in front of him.

"Whatever..." he retorts, blowing at the can to make it roll to Marcus's side, who promptly stabs and pins it to the table with a _**shrak**_.

Oscar blinks, sitting up in shock, "What the fu—?"

"Your girl is _dead_, Os," Marcus snarled at him, dark eyes cold, "Get over yourself or get it over with."

Oscar's face flared with rage for a moment, before settling into a bitter smirk, "Thought you weren't gonna save my ass anymore?"

"I'm not." Marcus replied dryly, taking something out of his pocket to toss on the table in front of the other man, and Oscar stares uncomprehendingly at the bright orange box cutter. "I'm just sick and tired of watching you drag it," he said dully, "So I'll throw you a bone, hm? Take some initiative."

Oscar glanced at his 'friend', eyes wide, before hesitantly pocketing the cutter, shock turning to contemplation...

". . . What about you?" he then asks, as Marcus unpins the can to examine his own knife's edge, "I saw how _you_ were looking at her, the vampire..."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" the dark-eyed man asked idly, "For me to actually look at a girl, for once?"

Oscar's now uncertain, feelings conflicting in him, words catching on his tongue, questions he wants to ask, but he's too tired to say them, sort of afraid to.

Instead he shrugs, and gets up to go find another can...

Marcus spends some time carving sketches into the shiny aluminum of the abandoned can, and again feels like he's being watched.

Again, in the doorway, Miss is smiling. And like before, she's smiling at him...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

**Preview:**

**. . .**

_"Where's Mavis?" Johnny asked shakily. Faceless only smiled, gently cradling the baby,_ _"The vampire girl? She was needed elsewhere..."_

**. . .**

_"Oh, Johnny... Do you really think that just because I let you go it means that I set you free?"_


	20. Third Strike (part 1)

The following week was—perhaps not easy or comfortable, no—but good. Mavis and Johnny got adjusted to the feeling of routine, of company, of chores to focus on, to form a schedule around work and 'homey' things instead of maps and traveling. Mavis proved to be even more useful now that she didn't have to restrain herself as much. She'd get to help work with the hard-to-reach places, could deal with things that were normally harmful or difficult for humans, like vermin infestations or places where the electricity wasn't working yet, dark places that she liked to explore and recover things from for the others. It was easier on Mavis and Johnny, too, now that she didn't have to make excuses to avoid sunlight, or need to ask Johnny questions later about human things she didn't understand, when she could just ask those humans herself.

Some were still slightly uneasy, of course, but it was Ellie and Alice who took it quickest in stride, the women of the group forming quick bonds that Johnny was happy to see. Still, he and Mavis didn't get to spend much time with each other, as Ellie often dragged her around, and Avril kept Jonathan busy... That, and he still didn't feel good about Oscar too much. The guy seemed to be leaving even more empty cans around than usual; who knew where he was finding all of it. And now Johnny wasn't too sure how he felt about Marcus. The guy was cool, quiet, kept to himself, didn't seem too bad of a guy, except now he'd keep staring at Johnny or watching Mavis. Maybe Jonathan was jealous, still, Marcus kept watching, and he was sure he didn't have to be okay with that.

Still, there was work to be done, things to do, and Johnny, even with the guys and Faceless making the back of his neck itch, even with the thoughts of strange spells in his body, he managed to enjoy himself. The electric bike thing was awesome, and Mavis was finding all sorts of cool places they could explore.

So for now, things were kind of good...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Mavis crawled through the ducts, brushing aside the spider webs, finally having gotten a temporary escape from Ellie. It's not that she didn't like the girl or anything, but after telling the human her actual age, she quickly got tired of the 'old lady' jokes Ellie wasn't running out of yet. Time for a breather, so to speak.

She'd found a couple of good-sized spiders that made for a nice snack, a pleasant crunchy chewiness, but not very filling. She made a face as she felt her stomach twist, but she wasn't due for another cup until tomorrow. That would make two cups, then one more cup to go until they talked... She growled to herself in time to her stomach. 'It's okay'? No, it's _so _not okay. It's not okay to treat yourself like...like a _menu_ option... Why couldn't he see that? Did he think she'd be so desperate? That weak? That selfish? No. He didn't deserve that. He shouldn't smell so good, or _taste... _

A fist slammed the side of the duct, leaving a slight dent and a low metallic rumble to echo through the system...

"What the...? Who'sat?"

Mavis blinked, turning her head towards the noise, and crawled to one of the vents that opened down into a hallway.

"Um, hey...? Sorry 'bout that." she called out, and saw that guy, Oscar, walk into view, staring at the ceiling.

He grinned in the vague direction of the vent, "He-ey, vampire..."

"He-ey, human..." she grumbled back, watching him as he leaned against the wall, or more like fell against it. She could smell that beer smell she'd come to associate with him, and sighed, backing off a little, when he spoke up again, "Ellie's lookin' for you..."

She paused, feeling a twinge of guilt, "Oh."

"Nah, it's okay," he chuckled, "I was looking for you, too, glad I found you first."

Mavis blinked, moving back to look down at him through the vent grill, and saw him trying to see her, "You still there?" he asked, sounding anxious.

"Yeah, yeah, I am." she mumbled, eyes narrowing, "Why are _you _looking for me? Did you need something?"

"Yeah I do." he smirked, giving a leer, which then quickly turned into something more morose, "Er, sorry... Are you...are you sure you can't bring people back?"

Mavis sighed. He'd kept asking this for days now, "I'm sorry." she said quietly, "Really."

"B-but I know where the body is, I think, I mean, it's...I don't know, it's not much, but it should be enough to—"

"I'm sorry."

Mavis was uncomfortable. She didn't know how to deal with this kind of thing.

The man stared, eyes bleary in drunkenness, and shrugged, sliding down the wall to slump on the floor, and Mavis watched, now curious.

". . . Who was it?" she asked hesitantly, moving to get comfortable, crossing her arms and resting on them. Maybe talking about it would make him feel better. She saw his shoulders shake as if he were laughing, and he was grinning, but it looked tired.

"I never knew her name." he admitted. "She never told me. Cute girl, real cute girl, couldn't hold her drink for anything, kinda scrawny, but scrappy... We hooked up in the refugee group, shared a bottle, shared another bottle, shared a bunk, y'know how that kind of shit works..."

Mavis blushed, eyes narrowing, but he went on, "I..._liked _her..." he admitted, "She was...was an art student, right? Really good stuff, really trippy stuff her mind. She was gonna go to some school...somewhere, don't remember now, but it was real nice, fancy-sounding..." he laughed again, "You fall asleep around her, you'll wake up finding she used you as a sketchbook, ha-a-ah, a pervy ninja vandal, drew _all _over me..." Then he rapidly fell back into a dejected face, "I thought about going to her school when all this shit was over, maybe, I don't know, ask her out for a drink proper, right? Maybe actually get to know her, get to know her name? Next thing you know," Mavis watched as he made an L of his thumb and forefinger, miming aiming at the opposite wall, "_Pchew, pchew! _Bye-bye, baby girl!"

Mavis was quiet as he slowly dragged his hand over his face, ". . . She was a _nice _girl," he growled into his palm, teeth gritting, "And...and all she does, all she could've been doing, and she just gets _shot_ by some bastard scared of _shadows? _What the _fuck's _with that?!" He looked at Mavis through his fingers, ". . . I just want to know her name..." he said sadly, "Just wanna actually ask her out for a drink, but _you_ can't...now I can't even..."

Mavis looks away, embarrassed, uncomfortable, and hears a strange _cl-cl-clicking _sound, and she frowns.

"I-I just _miss_ her..." he said hoarsely, voice a slur.

Mavis is confused at that strange note in his voice, and then blinks as a _smell_ wafts up through the vent. Her fangs nearly pierce her lower lip as she looks back down.

_Orange box cutter, pushed-up sleeve, welling of such wet, rich red... _

An unnatural mist pours through the vent to pool at his feet, and the young man jumps, cringing against the wall as she appears in front of him, her face inscrutable as the cutter slips from his hand to slip out of his flesh to fall to the floor with a rattle of metal against plastic, "Oh, tha's scary hot..." he mumbled in shock. He grunts as a small hand grasps his upper arm to pull him up and slam him against the wall, his sleeve slipping back down to smear and stick against the fresh, clumsy cut along his wrist...

"_Urgh_, hey, what's wrong with...?!"

He shuts up when he sees her eyes, that they're not looking at his face. The pupils are now mere pinpoints in milky-blue irises, blankly locked on to the trickle of blood that trailed from under his sleeve to drip from a finger, falling to the floor with a gentle _patter_. Oscar glances uneasily at the drop of blood that stains the carpet, then at Mavis, swallowing, shock cutting through the stupor of alcohol. There's a choking sound in his throat as those eyes snap up to look at his face, expressionless and scary-sharp. The barest sneer in the lip shows a fang, and then suddenly he's being dragged down the hall, and he blinks, trying to keep up with the monster girl.

"Woah, hey, hey, hey, what's—?!"

"**Shut up**."

He does, and the vampire girl finds a bathroom, dragging him in to shove him against the sinks, and he moves back as she stands in the doorway, staring blankly at him.

". . . Wash." she growled, and Oscar blinks, not understanding.

In a moment she's near him, and he gets the impression of teeth before there's a ripping sound, and his shriek echoes against the tile...

. . .

He's shaking, looking at the remains of the sleeve that she was pulling out of her teeth, and looked at his now bare forearm, amazed she'd managed to do that without catching skin... "Wash it _off,_" she spat, making a face as threads shredded through her fangs, her breathing slow, shaky, and harsh, "_Hurry_..."

He swallowed, putting his forearm awkwardly into the sink, grimacing at the weak, murky trickle of water. He hadn't cut too deep yet, or too badly, and soon the blood that welled up was watery and weak, and the vampire girl sounded like she was breathing better. He looked up into the mirrors and shivered. It really was kind of freaky that she didn't have a reflection.

". . . You know," he said shakily, thinking, rubbing his hand along the cut, as the flow from it slowed, "That...that wouldn't really be a bad way to go..."

He reels back from the sudden pain in his face, holding his cheek. She's glaring up at him, before she hits him again, a backhanded fist that he's too stunned to dodge, and now he's swearing, protesting, stumbling back, before he vaguely realizes the crazy girl's almost crying.

"You..." she snarled, face contorted into something almost animal, shaking, raising her fists again, "Have no..._right...!"_

He cringes back, hands held protectively in front of his face, before she pauses in mid-swing, fists shaking, teeth clenched, breathing rapid.

Now she's at the wall farthest from him, pacing, and Oscar's now aware she's between him and the door. It's weird that he's being beaten by a smaller girl...

"That's _it?" _he hears her bark out, and he winces, slightly insulted, but mostly just tired, "_That's_ it? You think that would make things _better?" _she growled, and he sees her glaring at his wrist, "You think she'd want you like _this?! You have no right._"

He glared now, jaw setting, "It's nothing you'd understan', bit'..." he ground out, feeling his cheek start to swell.

In a beat he was slapped again for a third time, so hard he was knocked against the wall, and heard her frustrated _snarling..._

_"Yo-o-ou should **really** not talk..." _was what he heard over the ringing in his ears.

"No I _don't _understand," she punctuated by dragging him back away from the wall, shoving him towards the door, "I don't _want _to understand," she continued straightforwardly, shoving him again over his protests, making him stumble out of the door, "I will _never _understand...!"

He's now nearly crawling away, hurriedly getting back to his feet, but she's there in front of him, staring up at him, eyes bright and livid.

"You can do whatever you want," she said blankly, staring him down fit to almost freeze him in place, but he hears her voice shake, and hears the strangest hint of a Romanian accent, "I can't stop yo-ou... I don't really have a right to, do I? You can do _whate-ever_ you want..." He's stunned as that blank expression breaks, replaced with some sort of agonized, angry thing of disgust and pain, a harsh hiss, "Just don't you _dare_ have the gall to make anyone _see it_. You owe these people _that_ at least..."

He blinks, just in time to see the last bits of mist disappear into another air vent, stunned, and now feeling the pain in his arm and his face.

. . .

Nonplussed, he shuffles back down the hallway, to where he'd dropped the box cutter. He looks down at it, to its edge still glistening with a film of red...

He stared, and a variety of expressions cross his face. Indignance, shame, anger, sadness, a glare, a clench of the teeth...

A vicious kick sends the cutter to knock against the opposite wall, a swearword spitting harshly between his teeth as he sits down again, rubbing a hand roughly against his tenderized face, giving a weak chuckle as he decided to sit and wait for a hangover, and with it, stupid sobriety, "Gee, seemed like a damn good idea at the time!" he laughed angrily, before guilt ran over his expression again. He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall, gingerly rubbing his face again and thinking. 'So-o,' he thought to himself tiredly, the open cut starting to sting, 'Now what, then?'

. . .

He went to go find something to wrap this up, growling against the pain. Never thought this kind of thing would _sting_ so much...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

It waited until the weak drunk boy was gone. The box cutter was nudged aside with a foot, It tilted Its head to see the blood already drying to a fine dark red crust on the fine metal. It looked around, and then saw the drop of blood that stained the carpet, and then breathed in deeply, sensing pain, _fear_, sorrow, anger, and _blood lust_...

A smile grew on Its face, as It saw the next stage set in motion. _Finally_.

It was so pleased, that the smile grew and grew until that smile split Its face with a disturbing, gristly _shri-i-i-ip_...

It froze, a frozen smile gaping wide at the wall, made with a mouth It didn't have.

". . . Ow?"

It laughed at Itself, carefully sealing the careless smile away, mending the face. Careless, careless.

It would probably need to make a new face, soon, this one was starting to lose its quality.

But not yet, not just yet, there were still things to be done at this stage that still needed this face...

Just a few things more...


	21. Third Strike (part 2)

She was breathing first light and shallow, then slow and deep, her face hot and sweaty from crying.

Her fangs felt _sore _in her mouth, her stomach was a _snarling_ thing in her abdomen, but both were slowly fading...

She'd eaten spiders, crackers, moths, roaches, jerky, anything to ease this ache in her teeth, to take the edge off of this unreasonable hunger. It helped, but this hurt. Mavis curled up on her cot in her and Johnny's room, wiping away angry tears. She didn't understand, and didn't think she'd want to. So...so was that guy just going to go _die _now? Would that be her fault? . . . She buried her face into the thin pillow, feeling drained and depressed...

She sat up, determined to go find the guy, ignore the redness, and hypnotize him to not kill himself, when Johnny came in, looking tired, and confused, but happy, "Hey, Mavis," he greeted, smiling, "Was looking for you." She blinked, moving a bit to get him to sit down, watching him fall back with an exaggerated groan, to be nearly boneless, lying crosswise on the cot.

"Avril work you to death?" she asked, smiling a bit, but looking at the exposed skin of Johnny's throat, not hidden by a shirt neck...

"Not yet." he laughed weakly, then raised a finger aimlessly, "Ellie says you move fast for an old lady, and that Oscar guy wanted to say 'thank you' for some reason."

Mavis blinked, feeling thrown as Jonathan awkwardly raises his head to look at her, "Did something happen, with him?" he asked, concerned, and now he sees the redness of her eyes, the way she looked like she'd been crying, and she shakes her head, rubbing at her eyes, "He had, um, had a problem," she said, as he sat up, worry on his face, "We...talked about it," she said carefully, dazed, "I don't know but—but he looked okay?" she asked, anxious.

"He seemed okay, but his face sure wasn't." Jonathan said bluntly, and watched his girlfriend wince. Ah-hah... Johnny smiled tiredly, overriding Mavis's stammers, "I think if he wanted to say 'thank you' for it, you probably had a good reason for...for whatever," he eased, "He didn't hurt you?"

She shook her head, and Johnny rubbed her shoulder, "That's all I need to know." he said quietly, smiling at her, even while she nervously kept shaking her head.

"Humans are so _weird_..." she finally mumbled helplessly.

That made him laugh a little, holding her while she calmed down, "I'm sorry..." he murmured, but when she wasn't looking, a dark expression was on his face.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

A moment in the day, mid-morning.

Johnny had managed to find a working outlet to charge his cell phone, and he and Mavis were staring at it nervously, as it sat in-between them on the floor.

The little battery icon in the corner blinked almost cheerily to show that it was full. They could do it, finally. They could call the hotel.

They would call the hotel.

Johnny smiled at her as she dialled the number, holding it up to her ear as it started to ring.

They both looked nervously at each other, as the ringing went on for a long time.

_"Hello!" _

Mavis's face lit up at the sound of Dracula's voice, then froze, and slowly fell and paled as it went on as an answering machine message...

_"This is Dracula, manager of Hotel Transylvania..." _

Their eyes met silently, Johnny able to hear the disembodied quality of the voice coming out of the phone.

_"I am sorry that we cannot take your call at the moment..."_

The phone trembled in her grip, but Johnny was slowly shaking his head, trying to ease her.

_"If you would simply leave a message with your number and reason for calling, we will get back to you as soon as we can..."_

Mavis's breathing hitched at the cheeriness in her father's voice, now anxiously waiting for the tone, just so he'd know she's okay...

_"Thank you for calling, for it is most appreciated. I hope you are in good health, and thank you for considering our business." _

***beep***

Mavis tensed, ready to give her message, only for her words to catch on her throat and die, as a voice told her the message inbox reported it was full...

"Tomorrow," Johnny said quickly, as she quietly pushed the END button and gave it back to him, shaken, "W-we'll call again tomorrow..."

Mavis nodded, "Tomorrow." she agreed, but she didn't sound so sure.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"We're gonna party tonight." Ellie told Mavis a while later over lunch, making the vampire blink.

"Huh?" Mavis asked.

The girl grinned excitedly, eyes sparkling, "We never celebrated the shadows going away, so everybody agreed we'll do something. Girls' and guys' night! Ding, dong, the stuff's all dead!"

Mavis thought it over, then smirked tiredly, "Sounds fun. Will there be _drinking?_" Mavis joked, then laughed at Ellie's stricken expression, "Kidding." she chuckled.

". . ."

"Ellie? . . . Yoo-hoo, Ellie?"

". . ."

"Ellie, c'mon, seriously, I was _kidding... _Maybe."

It was still a good payback for all the 'old lady' comments, even if she had to convince Ellie to come back within a ten foot radius.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Later that night, after the baby had been put to bed, Oscar had invited _all_ of the menfolk to a drink, which was surprising, but not unwelcome. After all, the women of the group had decided to go do who knows what girls did, so why not? Johnny stared at the bottle they'd put in his hand, uncertain.

It's not that he'd never drank before, but still...

Oscar started toasting everything, Avril, the base, the death of the shadows, Johnny's 'crazy-creepy ghoul-friend'...

Johnny shrugged, finally laughing, maybe a bit louder than necessary.

Why not?

He starts taking a few sips, something like sour cherries pleasantly stinging the back of his throat, spicy sweet, comforting him.

Johnny doesn't remember too much after that.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Mavis stretched, waiting as she heard his clumsy footsteps in the hall, then watched the door open beneath her, and Johnny moved in unsteadily. She'd had a good time this evening, but she was curious to see how his went. She sniffed, and smelled that beer smell, not as strong as it'd been on Oscar's, but still...

He was now trying to find her under the cots, and she couldn't help but laugh, "How much did you _have?"_ she asked disbelievingly.

"One!" he protested, jerking up, only to bang his head against the edge of the cot with a _thwack_, "Ow-w?!"

"How'd it go?" she continued to ask, walking with amusement along the ceiling to be over him as he rolled on the ground, clutching at the back of his head, and he squinted up at her, a grimace of pain dissolving to a grin, "I don't like 'Miss', or Marcus, or Oscar." he said cheerfully, "And I don't think I like ceilings either."

She blinked, slightly taken aback, "Oh?"

Well, Miss was kind of creepy, but she hadn't seen her and Johnny talk much.

He nodded, not getting up, persistently, rhythmically patting the floor beside him, not letting up until she rolled her eyes, dropping to land in a crouch next to him.

"Why don't you like 'em?" she asked, looking at his eyes as he raised his hand to lazily brush at her hair, trace her ear, smooth his palm across her cheek. He looked tired, and pretty dopey, but he was looking at her, so that had to count for something being left in his brain, she thought.

"Ceilings let you get away, which isn't fair," he said, frowning as she smiled, "'Miss' is evil, Marcus is weird, and Oscar's a creep, and you _wanted_ _him.._."

She blinked, reeling back, "_What?_"

Johnny sat up, rubbing at his own face, going on in that slightly harsh tone and not looking so cheerful.

"The guy confessed, right, what he thought of doing? Elliot beat him up more for it, heh, but they're cool now. He didn't mention you, but I can add things up, Mavis..."

He looks at her through his fingers, and she could see his eyes drop to her mouth, looking strange. Mavis is stunned, and then surprised when he suddenly kisses her, clumsy, tasting good and weird at the same time with the heady aftertaste of a drink called Gulden Draak...

"J-John—_nnf?"_

She's light-headed as he breathes into her, dizzy and slightly overwhelmed by the strong traces of beer left in his mouth, it wasn't too bad, but... Her eyes widen as he tilts his head to push his tongue between her lips, breathing shakily through her nose as she feels him graze against her own tongue, then her teeth, making her shiver.

She's about to reciprocate, when with another lick he _scrapes _his tongue over one of her fangs, dragging it with sufficient force that she feels the parting of flesh under the needle-sharp tip and the welling up of something fresh, warm, _rich_, and hears, feels him groan against the pain but he only presses closer, and her mind is _shot..._

His hand cups the back of her head, not letting her back away as she tries to close her mouth without hurting him, shaking as the full taste hits her tongue and—

Johnny is shoved back against the cot, and Mavis is on the ceiling again, pacing, gasping for breath between her stained teeth, and he looks darkly up at her, teeth showing to be equally stained with his blood as he speaks again, hoarse, "See? Ceilings! . . . It's... I don't taste good enough, is that it? How'd _he _taste, then, huh?" he asked angrily, his voice thick as a fresh dripping of the liquid trails down his chin.

He's slammed back again, grunting as her hands are on either side of his head to gently blind him, keep him there while her own tongue gives a slow, careful lick to his chin before she kisses him fully, thumbs gently pressing over his eyes to keep him from opening them.

Her mouth is not nearly so gentle, teeth nearly carving a fresh cut into his tongue.

She backed off, breathing heavily after just a _taste_ of that, looking down at him as she kept his eyes closed, and she seethed, leaning towards his ear.

"I don't _know _how he tastes..." she hissed, feeling him move under her, try to get up, but she growls in warning, and he's still. "He isn't on the menu. And neither are _you_. _Especially_ not you... There...there are..._lines_, Johnny," she murmured, trying to calm down, brushing her lips against his ear, trailing up to his temple, where she felt his blood beat gently in a fine vein there, "Lines that are there for a reason, a _good_ _reason_," she finished with a kiss to his forehead, "I love you, Johnny, and I-I do _want_ you, oh you have no freaking idea, b-but you're drunk, you're drunk, and I'm so _tired_..."

He seems to be searching for words, but she doesn't want to hear him, so she kissed him again, keeping her mouth closed, even as she wants to sink her teeth into him and tear at his mouth and tongue and trachea and get more of that wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, _wonderful...!_

She backs off quickly, taking a shaky breath, getting off him, getting away as he sits up, he blinking.

Mavis grinned, but it quivered at the corners, didn't match her pain-filled eyes, "You taste _good, _you—_..._" she whimpered, then cuts off, and is then a cloud of mist that seeps under the doorway, and Jonathan is alone. He stares at the door, and is then crestfallen, falling back against the cot as the taste of his own blood is gross to him, running over his tongue and down his throat and drying on his lips, and now he might get why Oscar drinks so much, to wash away bad tastes...

He _re-eally _messed up...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Mavis walks in, but sees Marcus sitting at one of the tables. She starts back and nearly goes away, but he shakes his head, gesturing to the empty mess hall.

"You're fine." he says simply, looking back down at the table, at the magazine it seems he was reading, "Bad company?"

She's hesitant, but she does want to talk, kind of, and Marcus is the quietest of these people, and everyone else is sleeping.

"Drunk company." she admits wearily, sitting at the table, not near him, but in earshot. She sees a bottle near him, not quite empty, and stares at it.

Marcus glances at her, then at the bottle, and silently pushes it towards her.

Mavis stared at it, thinking. She's already slightly tipsy from Johnny's kiss and the alcohol that was in what blood she did have from him...

Still...

She takes a rebellious swallow that quickly turns into a repentant choking as it hits the back of her throat, "_Gu-a-h-ugh...?!_"

There's the hint of an amused smile on Marcus's face as the vampire writhes and retches the stinging pain away.

"Not what you're used to?" he jabs gently, and she glares at him, eyes watering, only to rest her face on the tabletop.

At least Johnny's taste is somewhat gone, a good-bad thing...

"Is been a long day..." she said, muffled.

Marcus gave a noncommittal grunt, turning back to his magazine, but his eyes drift over the page.

He looks over at her again.

". . . Are you afraid to hurt him?" she hears him ask, and turns to stare at him, surprised.

Her reply is quiet, "What?"

He raised his hands in deference, "I'm sorry," he said slowly, watching her with dark eyes, "I'm just curious. I was hoping you'd correct me if I were wrong."

Mavis's eyes narrow, as she considers this human. She shrugs, sitting up and brushing her hair behind her ear, "Don't have anything else to do." she decided tiredly.

Marcus nodded, shifting in his seat to face her more directly, the magazine abandoned, "You do not feed from him, or from humans," he observed, watching her steadily, "Is it because you're afraid to hurt him, or them, or is it because you require...willingness?" At her angered expression he raises his hands again, placating, "Alright, alright, the first thing, then."

She nodded silently, and Marcus returned the gesture, leaning on his knees, "But it's...eating at you, isn't it? Your, uh, your abstinence?" he asked, watching her recoil slightly, but she stayed. He nodded again, to himself, "What do you eat then, if you no longer have your substitutes to rely on?"

Mavis frowned, now a bit uneasy about this line of questioning, but apparently that's answer enough for this human, as he tilts his head.

"You don't. Then what stops you?" he continues to ask, "If he's willing—"

Her open palm slams the table, slightly startling him, and her eyes meet his, ice-blue meeting near-black.

"It's not just because I'm afraid to hurt them," she said slowly, evenly, "It's because I just _don't_. I've never had anything other than Blood Beaters, I never plan to. It's not just that I'm afraid to hurt them, I'm just afraid that I wouldn't be able to _stop_..." she takes a breath as his eyes widen with something indecipherable, and she continues, easily finding the words now that she's spoken some of them, "I've never had to deal with this kind of thing, never thought this kind of thing would happen, and it _scares_ me, because I don't know what _will_ happen..."

"And that's why you fear for him, because it is _him_, the last person you want to happen to." she heard him say simply.

She nodded, shutting her eyes tight for a moment at the thought of that rich aftertaste.

"Yeah..."

He hums in thought, and silence falls again, filled with the distant _pings _of pipe-work and the subtle buzz of fluorescent lights that echo in the spacious hall.

"How would it be, then," he goes on, making her glance at him, "If someone was perfectly willing to feed you and accept the consequences that come with it with full knowledge and consent?" Her eyes widened, as he gets up and moves next to her, leaning a hand on the table so he was partly over her, casting a shadow, staring down at her evenly, ". . . I wouldn't mind." he said softly, leaning his head to the side, and her eyes automatically draw to his bared throat, "I even know people who would _line_ _up_ for something like this, and never think the worse of you, hell, they'd sing your praises..." he added, smiling slightly, making her blink.

"I-I don't understand." she mumbled, backing off a little as her seat allowed.

But he continues, "You think there's a catch to such a thing."

She doesn't answer, which is enough.

He smiles a bit more wryly, "There is," he admitted, leaning in almost conspiratorially, "But it benefits everyone. Simply..._turn_ some...turn _m_—"

Marcus blinks as she's suddenly across the table, staring at him warily.

"Th-thank you for listening to me," the vampire said shakily, as the human stares at her, "I can't give...I-I, no, I can't, I'm sorry, bye."

He blinks, and then she's just gone, and now Marcus is alone in the mess hall.

. . .

The hand on the table slowly curls, blunt nails scraping along the laminate to clench into a white-knuckled fist...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Mavis is now huddled up in a dead-end of the duct system, gently hitting her forehead against the sheet metal.

Right now she wasn't sure if she hated humans, or if she just hated boys in general.

She missed flying. She 'missed' Johnny. She missed the hotel. She missed her dad.

And she was so, so tired...

Tomorrow.

She'd get to have that cup tomorrow evening, and then she and Johnny could talk, just talk, and things would be okay.

She'd just have to hold out until tomorrow evening.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

_"You need her..." It observed, as It soothed this broken, fearful, angry thing, and might have felt something like affection._

_"**Yes**..."_

_"Her wings are clipped," It told the thing, "And her will is weakening as her hunger grows. But you will need some things, in order to get what you want..."_

_Dark, near-black eyes meet the ones It doesn't have; It feels a tremor of joy at this wonderful, wonderful investment that was coming so close to fruition._

_"What do I need?" the investment asks—the perfect words!_

_It is happy to tell him._


	22. Third Strike (part 3)

In the room Jonathan stirs, squinting. It's morning. Slight headache, not too bad, but his tongue is really, really sore. He moves his tongue along his teeth, licks his chapped lips, grimacing at the painful tenderness and the morning mouth taste crossed with dried blood, then he blinks, some details coming back. Ba-ad details...

Oh..._crap_...

_You really did mess up..._

He gently settles his face against the cot, gritting his teeth at the gentle pounding in his skull, feeling awful.

"Mav?" he asks aloud, but knows the room is empty.

He gets up, every joint and vertebrae crackling, body stiff and aching from sleeping in a quirky position.

"_Mmrgh_... M-Mavis...?"

He rubs his face, trying to wake up. Right, no more drink for Johnny, there's a _reason_ he shouldn't, ugh.

Have to go find Mavis, and...and say something, anything to fix this...

_You slept in. She's probably working right now, go out and see._

The first person he meets on getting out is Elliot, who's not as worse for wear, but the man smiles sympathetically, "Don't drink much, I take it?"

Johnny shook his head miserably, wincing a little at the motion. Elliot laughs, "C'mon, wash up and face the new day."

"Have you seen Mavis?" Jonathan asks, after washing his face and rinsing his mouth, but Elliot tells him he hadn't, but to ask Ellie.

Ellie is doing chores for Avril, so she tells him to see Avril, and she doesn't seem too pleased with Johnny when she says this, but he can't really blame her.

He runs into Oscar on the way to find Avril. Their meeting—if it could be called one—is brief and awkward, but they're sort of cool, especially seeing as half of Oscar's face is a swollen, black-eyed, split-lipped mess, and the other half looks very subdued and still slightly hung over. He'd even asked Johnny if he wanted to throw in a punch, too, but Johnny's too busy in trying to find Mavis.

_Might've felt good to, but that's old news, now._

Oscar tells him where Avril is, but when he finds the old man, he's made to stay a little while, help clean up bottles and things. "You leave a little mess and it'll just keep piling, I've seen it happen in better places than this." Avril commented, while they sweep glass into a bin, but don't toss it. Avril's somehow sure they'll find a use for broken glass. ". . . Your lady's with Alice right now, over in the common room." Avril finally said when they were done, watching Johnny as the young man leaned on his broom. "Figured she could use the quiet."

Jonathan nodded, thanking him, and made to go, but then stopped, hesitant. Avril nods, not needing to hear anything when he could see Johnny's face.

"People do stupid things they'll regret later," he tells him, "Everyone does. I have. Saying sorry won't fix it right off, no, probably not for a long time," he admits, "But you'll be better off for having said it, so at least you'll have a place to start fixing."

"It was re-eally stupid though..." Jonathan mumbled.

Avril raised an eyebrow, "Then be 're-eally' sorry, and mean it." he said bluntly, jerking his head to the side, "Go find her, and deal with that mess before it piles up."

Johnny sighs, and thanks him again, before making his way to the common room.

He doesn't find Mavis there, though, or Alice.

He finds Faceless, and Faceless is holding the baby.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Mavis is searching for towels or things that could be used as towels in the storeroom, moving through the aisles of shelves that were stacked with cardboard boxes full of all kinds of things. She was also taking time for a breather, feeling tense. She seemed a bit more hyper-aware of heartbeats now, Ellie's, Alice's, even baby David's...

That had been scary.

She sniffs, and then sniffs again, frowning. Something smelled strange, bad, like...gasoline fumes? She frowned up at the ducts.

Was there something wrong with an engine, somewhere?

She jumps when she hears the door to the room creak, and looks through the shelving to see...that looks like Marcus.

"Hello?" he calls out. Yes, it's Marcus.

She tenses, but answers warily, "Yeah?"

He turns at the sound of her voice, "Oh, hey, you're here, I... I came to apologize..." he spoke, speaking in her direction, peering through the shelves.

She sees his shape against the light coming in through the door. He's carrying what looks like a knapsack, which makes her blink. Was he planning on leaving?

"I hadn't really understood, before, but...but I thought about what you said, and I understand, now, and I'm sorry for it."

She's confused, this was a bit out of the blue.

"Y-you do? You are?" she asks uncertainly.

"Yes," he says reassuringly, "And I can help you..."

She sees him move, turning his head, trying to see her, and she's uneasy.

"What do you mean?" she questions, frowning.

He's adjusting the knapsack so that he can reach into it, and she hears the slightly unsettling sound of scraping metal, the strange sloshing of liquids.

"I understand that they suppressed your true nature, Mavis." he continued softly, and she blinked.

Then she starts back when he shuts the door, and hears the _click _of him locking it.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Jonathan is stunned, as Faceless looks up at him with a soft smile, putting a finger to Its lips.

"Shh-h-h," It hushed, "It took a while to get this little one to sleep..."

"Wh-where's the mother? Where's Alice?" he asked, voice a croak.

Faceless shrugged carefully, so's not to disturb David, "She needed a shower, but didn't feel safe having the boy in there with her, poor thing," It chuckled pityingly, "So I felt sympathetic and made an offer, and she entrusted him to me. Isn't that sweet of her?"

"Where's Mavis?" Johnny asked shakily.

Faceless only smiled, gently cradling the baby, "The vampire girl? She was needed elsewhere..."

Johnny swallowed, backed to the door a little, "I need to find..." He needed to find her. Somehow he knew he needed to find her _now... _

Faceless suddenly stood, but careful with Its burden, still smiling, "So you would knowingly leave this child with me?" It asked, and he froze.

He turned to It, now pale, now really looking at the baby. He looked like he was sleeping naturally, so why would It...?

"You said you've never shed blood." he said flatly, goosebumps rising on his arms.

Its smile widened, "There are more ways to wound than bloodshed, Johnny. _Gentler_ ways..." It murmured, stroking the baby's scalp, almost lovingly.

He didn't like how that sounded.

"What do you want?" he asked darkly, and Faceless sighed.

". . . Why don't you sit down?" It asked, gesturing to the seats, shifting weight to Its other leg to adjust Its carrying the baby, "Your lady won't be going anywhere."

"Where is Mavis, and what do you _want?" _he ground out, fists clenching.

"For now? Simply your company." It replied idly, and looked at his expression, smirking, "You know, it's not always about you, Johnny, or her," Faceless sighed, shaking Its head as if disappointed, "Other people have their needs, too. I can't afford to let you be greedy here."

"Give me the baby." he said suddenly, thinking he can take him and then find Mavis. His intent is clear, and that made It laugh.

"Greed-y, _greed_-y... I don't kno-ow," It mused, knuckles brushing David's face, "I _had_ been entrusted, and I do have a fondness for children... Still, you do want the boy. How about I just—?"

It suddenly lets go of the baby.

Johnny's panicked scream catches in his throat as he lunges at Its feet, to catch him before he can hit the floor, _but he's too la— _  
_  
_. . .

He's kneeling at Its feet, shaken and pale, hands still outstretched, and slowly looks up at Faceless.

Faceless is still holding the baby secure and safe in Its arms, head tilted in mock concern.

"Eyes playing tricks on you, Johnny? Maybe you should sit down..."

. . .

The air that had strangled him lets out as a low, hoarse keen of disbelief; fearful, disoriented _relief_ violently shuddered through his muscles.

He'd _seen _It drop David, he'd _heard _the cracking as the little body hit the floor too quickly for the baby to even wake up, seen the little hands spasm, the small limbs jerk, the back of the tiny skull flatten when it met the ground but—_it didn't happen?_ _It didn't happen, it didn't happen...?!_

"_Ghh...nngh_..._h-he...hghh_..._oh-h-h God what do you want_...?" he groaned, and It shook Its head gently.

"I _told_ you, Johnny, I simply want your company." It repeated, making little shushing noises at the baby when the little boy almost stirred.

_The baby was okay, the baby was okay... It didn't happen, didn't happen..._

"You can either stay with me and keep me company, or you can go on and try to find your girlfriend, leaving me alone with the baby. It's _entirely_ your choice..."

Jonathan looked up from where he was on the floor, looked at the baby, and knew he didn't have a choice, not really...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Mavis keeps to the back of the room, silently circling in opposition as he wandered through the shelves, her breathing feels too loud.

The ceiling is high, but the walls are too crowded with shelves and things on them to make an effective escape.

"Marcus...?" she says quietly, trying to keep the panic out of her voice, "Please, Marcus, I'm sorry, I _can't_ give you—"

"It's not just about me, Mavis," he interrupted, sounding scarily calm, "Please, hear me out..."

She hears the splash of pouring liquid, and the smell of gasoline resurged, strong, making her head spin, and she chokes. It doesn't seem to affect him.

"M-Marcus, how—what are you—?" she gags, stumbling as the scent of the fumes hits her, "Oh, _what_ are you—?!"

"He doesn't deserve you," he said, raising his voice slightly, as he turns with the corner of the room. She can see the door out of the corner of her eye, he's too far away to reach her now, right? "He's selfish, stupid, to keep something like you to himself, when you could be so much _more_..."

She's edging back, now very, very unsettled.

"Humankind's _flawed_, Mavis, diseased, and this damn war's breaking it down, culling it. It needs to evolve, hell, this is the best time _for_ it, and _you_ can _help_ that..."

She doesn't hesitate, she lunges for the door, only to yell when it's suddenly roaring with flames, feeling the heat lash against her skin. She backs off, sees the trail of flame snake and flicker and lick its way along a trail against the wall, around the door, she can see flames start to rise outside through the little window in the door, and turns to see it continue along the walls of the room. The cardboard boxes on their shelves are already blackening and warping, curling before the heat, and more fire rises where he walks, at times revealed and concealed in the flickering orange light as he methodically pours his gasoline. Smoke begins to curl up to the vents, beginning to thinly fog the ceiling, and Mavis feels things inside her begin to heal, but it's tiring, overwhelming, and she's getting dizzy.

"I told you people would line up for this kind of thing, didn't I?" he mentions, talking louder over the roar of eating flames, "I know plenty of people who deserve it, too, who need you. But don't worry, I know even more who deserve to be livestock, the corrupt fit to feed the reborn... Humanity can be _reborn_, Mavis, for the better, and it can start with you, with..._us_..."

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

It looked down at Johnny's prone form as they waited there for who knew what, and then It smiled encouragingly, "It's okay, Johnny," It soothed, "Sometimes life requires hard-to-make choices. How about I spill a little, hm? To pass the time? I really do like children, maybe even love them, though the ones this small are simply fascinating to me, they're so strange," It indicates David, rocking him gently, "Want to know why? Go on, take a guess..."

He doesn't answer, feeling, _hearing_ the blood pound in his ears, feeling some strange, stirring pressure in his sternum, behind his eyes, but it doesn't bear him down.

It actually seems to want to draw him up.

"Human babies," It goes on, "Are the most pure, the most naïve, the most _selfish_ creatures one can meet."

Johnny looks up. It's cradling the baby between Its arm and lap, carefully brushing away the tiny wisps of hair stuck to little David's forehead.

"They are akin to new seedlings," It told him, "Needy for water, sunlight, earth, still tender and unexposed to the harshness and weathering experienced by their older kin. Think of it, this little one here," It brushed a finger along the bridge of the baby's nose, "Has known no fear. Discomfort, yes, confusion, yes, annoyance, yes, but no fear. And that amazes me. He wouldn't think for his mother at all unless she suddenly wasn't there to hold him when he desired, and he wouldn't miss his _mother_, no, he would only miss her warmth... He would not fear, he would only be disgruntled..." It looks down at Johnny's widening eyes, smiling, "He doesn't know enough to fear, not yet, which is so fascinating. It often makes me wonder..." Its fingertips trace delicate circles along David's forehead, and the baby begins to stir, but his eyes don't open, "What goes through a babe's little being when it experiences its first _nightmare_..."

At first Jonathan doesn't understand, but then... Oh...

"St-stop it..." Johnny whispered, as the baby begins to squirm in his sleep, face scrunching, legs feebly kicking, and It keeps tracing circles, humming softly. "Stop." he says a little louder, watching in horror as Its fingertips seem to phase ghost-like into David's forehead, and small whimpers begin to escape, confused cries, and the baby still doesn't wake, even as he squirms, starts to weakly thrash in his sleep, and It only patiently adjusts Its hold. It tilts Its head, moves Its fingers...

_"STOP! PLEASE, PLEASE JUST **STOP** I-I-IT!"_ Jonathan finally wailed as a choked, crying _scream _rose from the baby's mouth, not of pain, or surprise, but of sheer, stricken _fear_... It abruptly withdraws Its fingers, hand raised to mimic surrender, and It listens to Johnny's ragged breathing as they both listen to the baby's cries slowly subside, falling back into a deeper sleep once more, broken here and there by little confused hiccupped sobs... It takes the time to use Its shirt to clean the baby's flushed face, wiping away the tears It finds there, before It hears him speak up, looking at him.

"Please..." he says shakily, on his knees, staring at the baby, "Please, what...what do I need to do—what do you _want _from me?"

Faceless considers him, neither smiling nor frowning, and waits until he looks It in the eyes It doesn't have.

"I want to know what _you _want here, Johnny," It told him softly, "And I think I can guess. You want to go find Mavis, right? And you want the baby to be safe..."

He nods helplessly, and It sighs, "Then go do so. You'll have my word that I will not hurt the baby, either his body or his mind, and that is a very solid promise..."

Jonathan blinks, uneasy, not getting up. It shouldn't be that easy, it can't be that easy.

"I will go return him to his mother," It elaborated, "Alright? Happy? Go on, go, you're terrible company. Go save the girl, before I change my mind."

It waits, knowing those words finalized it for him, as he takes a last look at the baby, then at It, before fleeing. How cute. How 'noble'.

It waits for another few moments, and then smiles, looking down at the baby. That should've stalled for enough time for Its investment.

"That's right, David," It whispers softly, standing up to walk out of the room, "I'll take you back to Mommy, hm? Let's go see your mommy..."

It walks in the direction of the shower rooms, humming that little tune stuck in Its head.

"I'm sure your mommy will be very happy to see us..."

It talks to the others of this place's merry band along the way, taking care to send them to places and direct them to things that would distract them from the absences of a few people, that would distract from the faint smell of smoke It was beginning to sense in the air... After It returns David, It should see what It could do with that fire...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Mavis hears him stalking through the shelves. He doesn't seem to care that she hears. This room is spacious, so the air's still fine so long as they don't get near the walls, but she's edgy, her skin is already slightly reddened from a brief brush with a flame, and the fire's going to spread.

She waits, quietly sneaking so she's on top of the shelves, looking for him. Mavis finds him. She lands in front of him, taking him by the front of his shirt to slam him up against a shelf, hearing the stuff there rattle over the distant crackle and roar of flames, meeting his eyes, and then hers flash red.

"_You will forget that I am a vampire,_" she intones, voice now slightly inflected with a Romanian accent as her glowing red eyes meet his widened eyes. "_You will forget all about vampires existing, and what you want from them, and you will **never** come near me **again**._.."

She breathes out, lets him go, waits anxiously, thinking when it sets in she can get them out. He blinks down at her, once, twice.

And then a slow smile spreads on his face.

"Wanna bet?" he asks quietly, and Mavis startles, backs up, confused, but he's stepping with her, smiling, staring at her.

The shelves of this aisle are too narrow for her to sidestep him.

"_Y-you'll stay away from me,_" she says desperately, eyes flashing red again, she blinks, can't hold it, he keeps coming, then she tries again, "_St-stay away!" _

He laughs, shaking his head, and in the glow of the flames there is seen something off in his eyes.

In the middle of the darkness of his irises, faint, filmy cataracts gleam pale in the firelight...

A low, animalistic moan of despair growls from her mouth, and then she turns to mist, to try and escape. But this holds no hopes either, for as soon as the unnatural clouding nears the flames, little bits inside begin to spark, and the faint mass is nearly pulled up with the updraft of the heat, nearly torn apart.

"Thermodyna~amics! It actually works!" he laughs as she rematerializes with a frantic scream, beating out the sparks on her person, but more sparks are embedded under her skin, inside of her flesh, inside of _her_, and she can't help but _wail and writhe _in agony until these sparks finally die and those little burnt pinpoints self-heal, gasping while he watched. ". . . I always wondered how this kind of thing works, you know," he comments, "There are so many theories, so many fantasies. We humans are very...imaginative, after all..."

Mavis shudders, backing off, then blinks as he reaches into his knapsack again, bringing something out that makes her choke when she recognizes it.

The Blood Beaters carton's plastic gleams in the flickering light, as he holds it out from his person. The sloshing indicates the cup's worth left inside.

"This fetters you," he said quietly, watching her horrified gaze, "Like a damn _drug... _But...you don't need to worry about it, not anymore..."

And, as simple as that, he tosses it into a nearby patch of flames.

Mavis screams in panic, darting forward, but stopping short of the fire's heat, watching helplessly in horror as the carton began to peel and blacken, a flaring of fire, its contents bubbling and drying to a crude, crusty black, smelling revolting, wasted, _wasted, **wa-ast-ed**..._

. . .

"I...will...**_kill_**...you..." she says slowly, turning to face him, her eyes not even recognizable.

He holds his hands out mockingly, still _smiling_, and with a roar she comes at him, fangs bared, only to be stopped, something jabbing into her stomach and _shock—! _

She falls, stunned, feeling the muscles in her stomach spasm and clench, her limbs jerking gently, jaw clenching, a full, strange tremor seizing her body for a moment, a full, disturbing seizure. Before she can recover, he quickly zaps her with the taser again, a jolt to the hip, then to the stomach again and again and _again_, until her form is stiff and stunned on the ground...

He takes a deep, shaky, relieved breath, meeting her wide blue eyes, laughing again, almost apologetic.

"There are...all sorts of theories," he continues, kneeling over her, putting the taser at her side in case he'd need it again, taking his knife out of his pocket, the edge gleaming redly in the flickering light, "But I do know some kind of exchange is required, right?" he went on, taking off his jacket and absently tearing at his shirt neck, but pauses, looking down at her.

. . .

She feels the tip of the knife graze her throat's skin, starting to part the neckline of her own shirt...

"Some of those theories are stupid, honestly," he admits as he worked, backlit in her eyes by the rising flames, "That 'it won't hurt' or 'it's so pleasureable' or 'you barely feel anything', but, some are kind of fascinating..." Her hand stirs, but another quick taser jab to her shoulder subdues her again. "With the effects on the brain, chemicals and stuff," he continues almost casually, discarding his work on her shirt, a thumb and forefinger inserted into her mouth carefully prying open her shock-locked jaw, baring her teeth, "Some say the feeling of that bite, for both involved is...almost like _sex..._" He smiled down at her, cataracts briefly gleaming again, picking up his knife and bringing it to his own neck, feeling her try to shake her head.

"You be sure to let me know afterwards," he told her, "'Kay...?"

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

_Johnny ran, the pounding in his ears spreading to his body, following that strange, stirring pressure in his sternum, feeling panic rise, feeling his heartbeat practically beat inside his bones. This might be concerning, unnatural, but for now he doesn't care, he just has to find Mavis...!_

_The pounding turns into a beat, in sync with his heart._

_This was more than buzzing background noise or that whine in the back of his head._

_Whatever this thing was, it was a war drum..._

_**FIND MAVIS**... is what it roared to Jonathan._

_J-just hang on, Mavis, he's coming..._


	23. Power

_She feels numb, she feels heat._

_She feels the floor scrape under her back, she feels hands and painful lines and wetness on her skin, feels drops that she doesn't want to taste..._

_She sees light, harsh, dancing light, she sees dark eyes and bright teeth and the golden-silver shine of a metal blade, she sees the shadows circling around them._

_The shadows look like they have eyes._

_She hears these shadows, they sound like echos, like...like children, like little boys..._

_'Our anchoring?' the shadows murmur._

_'To protect the lady. The lady is our anchor.' they answer themselves._

_'The lady cries, the lady calls, she must be answered.'_

_'Where is the lady's vassal, he who would also protect her?'_

_'He is coming; we can hear the drums inside of him.'_

_'Not fast enough, not close enough. **We** can save her? **We** can kill this enemy?'_

_'This enemy is too great for us, for a greater power than us supports him.'_

_'We can move her?'_

_'She can't move.'_

_'We can hide her?'_

_'Too much light.'_

_'We can comfort her?'_

_'Comfort her mind?'_

_'Yes.'_

_'Yes.'_

_'Okay.'_

_'Lady? Hear us, and sleep, let us put you to rest, dear lady...' they tell her gently._

_She feels the hard floor drift away, sees the harsh light die into a comforting, embracing darkness._

_'Sleep, now__, until your vassal comes for you__, dear lady who holds the love of shadows...'_

_And Mavis 'falls asleep', the hellish flicker of firelight and the shape of the man moving over her mercifully fading away..._

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

He runs, feeling thrilling panic cinch his ribcage, no mistaking this for anything natural, no, as he followed its call through the halls, downstairs to the conjoining building that held the storeroom, thinking he smelled smoke. It's when he's in the main halls that he knew he did smell smoke, could see the faint haze of it drift against what light slants through boarded windows, golden-gray in the light with the faint smell of noxious gasoline and other burning things.

_Does any of it smell like meat?_

_Gotta find Mavis, gotta find Mavis, gotta find Mavis NOW._

_Please no burning meat smell..._

This was more than the 'uh-oh' feeling, something heavier, something bigger, leaving no room for 'uh-oh', there's only the thudding of his heart deep in his chest.

_Bu-pum... Bu-pum... Bu-pum..._

He's not even going to call for her now, waste of breath, waste of energy he would instead spend _getting_ to her, his ears filled with the sound of the rush of his blood.

_Bu-pum. Bu-pum. Bu-pum.  
_

* * *

**. . ._  
_**

* * *

"Alice?" It inquires after It is done, withdrawing Its fingers from her forehead. It stands on the damp tile in the shower room, holding the baby.

_"A~Alice?"_

There is no flicker in the young woman's eyes, only a faint tremble to her hands, the occasional blinking as she slumped, sitting against the wall.

She is pale, her pupils are dilated, one slightly smaller than the other, dull behind stringy strands of hair still wet from her shower.

"This is your child, Alice," It says gently, kneeling down in front of her, waiting patiently until she registers It and looks It in the face. It holds out the boy, "His name is David," It goes on, "He is your son. As his mother, you must take care of him, and keep the both of you healthy. That's what mothers do."

The woman named Alice stares blankly at the baby named David, before listless arms raise, carry, and cradle the child against her body, and once again she is like a mannequin. It waits, then nods, smiling, "Good girl." It murmurs, then says aloud, "I kept my promise: I did not hurt the baby, neither his body or his mind, and I returned him to his mother."

It stands, stretches, feels things pull and tug in this body, almost tear. It's probably time for a new face, It thinks.

"I wonder," It muses, as Its hands reach into the corners of this form's mouth and begin to tug; the skin, the flesh begins to slough away from It like an old suit, a visceral cocoon, "If a babe such as him—" _**crrkle, shluk**_ "—will even notice something is missing beyond the warmth of his mother's body, that something is broken?" It smiles apologetically at little David as he begins to stir in his mother's arms, while It tugged out of the arm like a sleeve with a scatter of discarded fingernails, the gristly ripping of stripping layers of flesh, "I might need to check in on you—" **_shlu-uk,_** _**glrksh, KRAK**_ "—_ouch—_in later years to see how that goes..."

After It's out, It gathers up the discarded form, and begins to eat it, feeling a new form and a new face grow as It did.

The water in this room washes away the messier things.

Alice is still expressionless, unresponsive except for the occasional blink while It changes in front of her, while her baby begins to whimper in waking.

The baby is probably cold.

"_Ghnff mm—pardon_... _Hm_, would make a good—_glf_—good pet project, after all this is done, I think..."

**_chew, rip, snap... _**

* * *

**. . ._  
_**

* * *

_Bu-pum. Bu-pum. Bu-pum. Bu-pum._

Follow the smoke, follow the smell, follow the pull that hooks at his heartbeat and pushes from inside his sternum, the pull is agony, his breath is hissing.

_Bu-pum, bu-pum, bu-pum, bu-pum._

How do you know things are wrong, Johnny? What'll you do if they are, really, what's the plan here?

We're going to get into something pretty bad, here.

Don't you hear the drums?

_Bu-**pum**, bu-**pum**, bu-**pum**, bu-**pum**..._

His heart was turning into a drum, the sound of it pounding through his veins like the thudding of a bone-buzzing bass, it fills his ears.

_Mavis, Mavis, Mavis._

He finds fire, a hall of flames that sears the air. He stops at the edge, smoke drying his eyes and lungs, making him cough, but the pull's bad now.

_**Bu**-pum-**bu**-pum-**bu**-pum-**bu**-pum-**bu**-pum..._

These drums aren't normal, Johnny, these beats are unnatural. This is that spell thing, isn't it?

_Protect. Mavis. Protect. Mavis. Protect._

This is fire, though. This is fire, no matter what happens flesh is flesh, and flesh can get cooked.

Okay, you're freaking out, you're scared, and you don't know for sure what's happening. You're running on adrenalin and some witch's voodoo, that has to count for something. She's more important, right? Protect Mavis. Protect Mavis, find Mavis, save Mavis, don't think about it.

He's running, picking his way through clear patches among the flames, feeling the stuff lick and burn at his skin and clothes, but with every thud of his heart, the power of that drum inside of him makes him feel less, numbs him. How can he feel burning outside when he can only feel the beat inside?

_Bu-pum..._

He finds a door, THE door, the thing in his chest tells him.

Gasoline-drenched, heat-warped door, he bashes himself against it, again and again and again 'til it gives with a CRACK, jarring his shoulder, he beats off flames.

_Bu-pum..._

This room recalls all typical descriptions of hell, it's hot, bright, and dark, and he almost can't breathe with it.

_Bu-pum..._

He's running along the aisles, some of them not yet gotten by flames, searching, searching, Mavis, Mavis...?!

_Bu-pum..._

And he finds them, and for a moment, he is frozen.

_BU-**PUM**.  
_

* * *

**. . ._  
_**

* * *

_'Her vassal is here, we can wake her now?'_

_'Not yet, not yet, there is still danger, and the drums inside of him are too loud.'_

* * *

**. . ._  
_**

* * *

In the flickering of firelight he sees dark, distinct shapes of bodies, the distinct color of pale, bared skin. The guy is kneeling over her, moving strangely, and Johnny just manages to catch the words 'just swallow, just swallow it, _please_' before the pounding inside drives him blind, desperate, a long, drawn-out 'NO' roaring from his mouth and tearing his throat raw. What's inside him is a _war_ drum, rough music, and the rhythm beats for bloodshed...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

It gives another stretch when It's done, wiping off Its mouth, gently testing this new form It's grown, works the joints, the muscles, the responses.

"Better." It says, in a deeper tenor, then tilts Its head, and smiles at the distant screaming It hears.

It inhales, sensing the air heated with fire, tinged with gasoline, smoke, blood, bile, fury, and fear of all kinds...

It hums, absently wondering which one would come out _less_ worse for wear.

The shadow-loved, the witch-touched, or the fear-driven?

"_Much_ better." It sighed, and then makes to leave.

"Goodbye, Alice, goodbye, David." It murmurs. It would like to stay longer, but It has a few more things to take care of in this place...

Alice doesn't respond when It leaves, and she simply sits there until the baby starts to cry upon waking up.

She looks down at David, blinking mutely, before checking to see what's wrong. The woman is methodical, gentle, dispassionate. The baby isn't hungry, nor cold, nor does anything seem to be causing him pain... Seeing nothing she can do, Alice silently sits once more against the wall, simply holding the baby with slightly shaky arms and hands, staring without seeing, hearing without listening while the baby cries, until she hears him cry himself back to sleep...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

_'We can wake her **now**?'_

_'Not yet. The lady will be very hungry when she wakes, and it is too dangerous for her to eat right now. Do we not hear the drums and see those warring shadows?'_

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

He's dragging him off of Mavis, throwing him into a shelf, trying to get a grip around the guy's neck, but the guy's skin is too slippery, sticky, and he's ready for Johnny now, blade flashing up, grazing Johnny's shoulder before Johnny catches the wrist, struggles to push it away from his throat. Uses free hand to punch the guy, throws him off, hit him again, hit him again, hit him _again_, get him down, he's down, keep hitting, hitting, hitting make sure he doesn't get up ever again never ever again and Johnny knows he's roaring, the skin on his knuckles is splitting, the bones in his hands and wrists are going numb, while he's punching in time to the drums that pound through his veins.

"YOU" he roared.

_WHUK!_

"WILL NOT"

_CRACK!_

"TOUCH HER"

_PHWUK!_

"YOU"

_SCHPAK!_

"**SON** OF A **BITCH**!"

_SHLIK-KLE. _

Jonathan screams when the blade is lodged into his shoulder and _twisted_, and the guy's up, howling through his broken face, getting a hold Johnny with the same arm, driving Johnny down, holding him down by his own arm. "I...lived...through bombs, bullets, and _betrayal_," Marcus snarled roughly through his own blood into Johnny's ear, his blood's glistening like crude oil in the firelight, he's beginning to push on Johnny's arm, too far, too far, _too far_, "I'm...sure as fuck...not gonna die by _you..._"

Johnny's shoulder is dislocated with a crackling _pop!_

Johnny screams, and screams again when Marcus uses the momentum to try and shove him into a nearby patch of flames.

Marcus backs off, breathing heavily, wiping away blood and other junk as the young man's clothes catch on fire, and goes to find his knife, intent on finishing this. Jonathan quickly gets up, heaving through clenched teeth, one arm dangling uselessly at his side while the other viciously tears his smouldering clothes off and swatting away at the sparks and embers, skin seared and reddened.

But the redness is strangely fading, sinking back into his skin in time to what seemed like a heartbeat as Marcus watched, stunned...

Suddenly Marcus is caught up by his throat by Johnny's good arm, shoved against the shelves, faced with a terrifying _smile._

"Oh-h-_kay!_" Johnny says, the smile turning into a snarling grimace, beginning to _squeeze_ his hand, "Le-et's—_see_—what _else_ you can live through..."

On the skin of Jonathan's chest, low on his sternum, the shape of a handprint shows red under the skin like blood, pulsing in time to the guy's heartbeat, and through Marcus's fading vision, he sees streaks of red rise up under this freak's skin like subcutaneous bleeding, covering the guy in patterns like war paint, primal and savage in the firelight. Marcus blacks out after that.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Johnny breathes in, breathes out, breathes in...then...o-o-out...

He lets the body drop from his grip, and stares as it just lies there, and then kneels, pressing his fingers to the throat, just under the jaw, between the trachea and muscle...

He waits...then he feels it.

A pulse.

The bastard still had a pulse.

Johnny stares.

. . .

No. No, not worth it. He's done. Johnny's done...

The red streaks he sees on his skin fade.

The drum beats slowly fade from his blood and ears, and Johnny slumps, feeling pain stabbing through his shoulder and arm, which is hanging useless, biting his lip against another scream, his throat hurts too much. He turns to Mavis, shaky, crawling over to her, and in the firelight he sees, it's flickering, disorienting, but he sees.

"Oh-h..._God_, no... No... No-no-no-no-no-_no_, _please_..." he whimpers.

Her shirt's in tattered strips, pushed aside, pushed off, leaving no modesty. A taser's lying next to her, who knows how much it'd been used. The pale skin that he sees is scored, marred by fine, shallow cuts that are already healing, but he sees where she's bled, he sees the streaks of red smeared along her skin, one particular cut is traced down her cheek, likewise streaked, and the implications make him want to bring those drum beats back and never let them stop. And that wasn't the worst... Her neck... Her neck is darkened, discoloured by a necklace of shallow cuts and bruises, by hands, by...teeth...

He doesn't want to check her mouth, not now, not until...not until she's okay?

_Is she going to be okay?_

He wants to _kill_, Johnny wants to kill, he wants to be violent and tear everything down, but...but the fire's rising and...Mavis needs him.

He looks at her eyes, and then he's confused. Her eyes are open, half-lidded, but strange.

They're dark, not cloudy, but literally dark, like she was wearing sunglasses _under_ her eyelids...

"M-Mavis...?"

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

_'We can let her wake **now**?'_

_'Yes, now.'_

_'It's safe, yes.'_

_'Okay. Lady? Time to wake up, your vassal is here.'  
_

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Mavis blinked, and the darkness cleared from her eyes.

"Mavis...?" Johnny repeated, as she stared blankly at the ceiling.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

_'She will be hungry...' they observe._

_'That is okay.'_

_'Her vassal will feed her.'_

_'Why won't the enemy feed her?'_

_'The vassal is more worthy, obviously.'_

_'And the enemy is filled with poison.'_

_'Oh. Did the enemy feed her?'_

_'We don't know.'_

_'Oh.'_

* * *

**. . ._  
_**

* * *

Johnny is shoved onto his back, nails sinking harshly into his shoulders, and he can't bite back a scream as her fingers press into the traumatized tendons of his bad arm. He gasps in pain for breath, meeting her gaze as she stares down at him, her teeth bared, lips peeled back and trembling, eyes mere slits in such pale, pale blues that almost gleam gold in the light of the flames. Her voice is a rasp, her hands are shaking, her arms, fingers spasming even as they clenched.

"_J-Jhnn...y-y-y..." _she whispers down at him, eyes wide, teeth chattering with blind panic.

Her fangs make him think of the teeth he'd seen on the big extinct cats in museums.

_"I...kuh... K-k-can't-can't-I—keh-I-hhuk-kn-I-ca-a-an't..._"

Johnny stares up at her, he's in pain, he's in so much pain right now, and he's scared.

They're in a place that's on fire, with a psychopathic bastard that might wake up at any moment.

"Mavis..." he says quietly, choking a little, there's no change to her shaking, except her teeth parting a little, a low, rasping growl.

"Mavis," he repeats, "It's oka—_agh!" _

_"Ther'sh **mo-o-ore**..."_ she growled, eyes wide and staring into his, as her hand was shoving his jaw up, nearly bashing the back of his head onto the floor. Then she's gone, and he's taking a heaving breath, quickly sitting up, she's gone through the door, he sees the flames had passed through the hall, now, leaving a slight scorching, smouldering blackness in their wake. Johnny runs after her, his shoulder snapping back into place as he ran, making him falter for a moment, nearly blacking out, before pushing on, gritting his teeth.

"MAVIS?!"

_How the **hell** are we still going, Johnny? _

* * *

**. . ._  
_**

* * *

He finds her in their room with all their stuff strewn about, huddled in the corner, fists clenching and unclenching at her elbows as she curled there. The remnants of a plastic IV bag lay pathetically at her feet, a strip of it still stuck between her teeth. Not a drop of blood is to be seen anywhere...

. . .

Johnny looks at her, exhausted as he gingerly held his shoulder. Numbly, stiffly, he picks up one of their blankets, and goes over to put over her bare shoulders. She stiffens, shivers...but pulls it around her, shifting a little to give him room to sit next to her, and he does, carefully looking over her. She's still bloodstained, but the cuts are pretty much gone, leaving behind a few scars that might be visible if seen in the right light. He can't quite see her face, though. He doesn't try to.

"I meant to say I was sorry," he murmurs, his voice a dry rasp, "I was try'n to find you, to say I was sorry..."

Mavis leans on him, doesn't say anything, and for a while they just sit there quietly, until Avril comes to tell them they have to evacuate the building...


	24. Aftershocks

Jonathan winced as the damp rag scrubbed away the ash from the skin around his face. Avril muttered something in apology, carefully checking out the already-healing burns that showed up from under the grimy layer. Ellie was doing the same for Mavis, quietly freaking out, but Mavis kept telling her things were okay. Elliot and Oscar were a salvaging tag team, saving what supplies they could get to from the smouldering skeleton of the storage rooms. Elliot occasionally broke off from the effort to check on Alice, who was sitting in a corner, holding David, she still listless and almost unresponsive.

Things weren't okay, not _'bad'_ now, no, but not really okay.

Sheer dumb luck, or something else, had managed to keep the fire from spreading outside of the storage areas; it was now isolated and quickly eating itself down into hot, red, angry ashy embers that still hissed and crackled, smoking in the cold afternoon air, some of the flames turning different colors from where they ate away at things with certain chemical compositions, papers, plastic, certain fabrics, bleach or soaps or other cleaning agents, sometimes causing small explosions when they hit smaller containers... Weak structures in the halls had miraculously collapsed while burning to make a sort of natural fire line to prevent the spread, being helped when some of the men had scraped away any other flammable things, starving or smothering the spot fires.

Smoke was everywhere, but it was already being blown away. Still, it was in the air, invading the nose and mouth with a sort of searing natural acridity, purging the sinuses and catching in the insides of the airways. Some people were still coughing, sneezing, ashes in spit and mucus, in the crud of their eyes, stuck to their skin by their own sweat, and their clothes would smell like wood smoke for _weeks_... The supplies, tool-and-utility-wise, had nearly been cut by over half. Fortunately all foodstuffs had been kept in the kitchen and eating areas, which were untouched, and they still had water, so there wasn't too much loss in that, no fear of dehydration or starvation.

Still, clothing, tools, medicine, raw materials, a lot of it was gone, diminished to a mess of mere fragments and melted plastics...

Marcus and 'Miss' were nowhere to be found, but there were no bodies or suggestions of bodies to be found in the wreckage. Quietly, Johnny and Mavis had told abbreviated versions of their story as far as Marcus went. Jonathan spoke particularly carefully about his suspicions about 'Miss' and Alice, an explanation which Alice had only contributed to by telling them simply that 'Miss went away'.

That's right... Alice...

The loss of supplies wasn't the worst thing to come out of all this.

Alice...? Alice was, to put it plainly, broken.

The extent of this 'brokenness' would become more clear after they could take their focus away from the immediate emergencies.

She wasn't _helpless_, per se. If she was hungry, she'd eat, if she was tired, she'd rest, if she felt dirty, she'd clean, if she felt cold or hot, she'd take care of it. She'd do the same for the baby. But that was about it. Beyond the essential requirements of survival and health, Alice might as well have been a robot, in some ways.

Alice wouldn't joke, wouldn't watch, wouldn't speak beyond brief answers, couldn't seem to hear. She would only just _look _at you when you spoke to her, blinking until you gave up, would only wait until you stopped touching her, or just shove you away. And...and she would only let Elliot, she would only let her husband be near the baby...

The first time this became clear was, frankly, distressing. David started whimpering, unhappy, but it seemed that feeding, warming, cleaning, or cooling him was all Alice could or would try to do. She just...sat there, holding David while he just kept _crying_... Ellie had tried, offering to hold the baby, but was only met by a blank stare from her sister while David's cries grew more and more plaintive. Ellie's frustration grew to her screaming profanities at Alice over the growing distress of the baby, anything to get her sister to respond to her, all met by a blank, unyielding _stare_...

And any attempts to simply _take _the baby...? Well...

Elliot tried to talk to Alice, eventually getting to hold David and soothe him, comfort him, while Ellie got treated for the ugly bruise forming on her face, the scraping scratches gouged into her cheek... The girl was angrily holding back tears, wincing against the cleansing sting of rubbing alcohol...

It was hard to distract Alice from the baby, but carefully David was passed around to take care of him more closely, to give Elliot time to work and make sure the baby would be okay, but he would ultimately be returned to his 'clockwork' mother. This Alice, this stranger in the woman's body was unnerving, unsettling. If you looked, you could see the faint marks on her forehead, the slight lightening of skin that looked like the brush of fingertips...

Avril in a sense recovered first, simply stating they'd started out with less, they'd make the rest last, though clearly the man was tired, weary.

Elliot was next, followed by Oscar. Elliot was the good son and faithful husband, helping his father and caring for his wife and child, even if he was thrown, put off and put down by the sudden, harsh change in his wife, slightly scared for his own child's wellbeing; he would work, throw himself into his work, into his obligations, devoted and determined, not stopping for much else.

Oscar really stepped up to the plate, helping the others, being where he needed to be: a shoulder, an ear, an eye, an extra pair of hands. The smell of smoke and sweat gradually dampened and defeated the odor of alcohol around him. He'd admit to Mavis later, after apologizing to her in a quieter moment, that while he certainly wasn't a good guy, he could be a better person. The vampire acknowledged this with a simple, assuring nod, and that seemed to be all the young man was hoping for.

Ellie... They weren't sure about Ellie.

She was angry, yes, hurt, yes, her teeth at times sinking into heat-chapped lips fit to blister them, nails absently biting into palms to leave little rows of discolored crescents in the skin. But she helped take care of Mavis, she did as she was needed, obedient, seeming accepting until she and Mavis were alone.

"_Bastards_," she muttered harshly, voice sounding broken, leaning on Mavis for comfort. The vampire had an uneasy arm around the human's shoulders, and saw the way Ellie was looking at her neck, at the still-healing wounds there, something like guilt crossing the girl's face, skin pulling slightly around the bandage on the young girl's cheek, "If I knew... Miss... Marcus... Those—..." Ellie went on, voice sounding on the verge of tears. Mavis comforts her human friend, holding her as the young girl breaks down and cries. She kept muttering into Mavis's shoulder all the things she could've done, wondering aloud what they could've done to deserve this, and Mavis lets her, while silently steeling herself against the beat she could sense in this girl's body, wishing she could be the friend this girl deserved...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Jonathan gets approached by four people during the rest of the day, while he's busy recovering he and Mavis's stuff.

First is Oscar.

". . . I'm honestly sorry," the once-alcoholic says, watching him pack, "If I'd known, I'd..." Johnny looks up, seeing where the other guy was leaning against the doorway, and Oscar goes on, "He's still out there." he warns Johnny, "Marcus? He's a very stubborn bastard, right? He's...no easy kill... He's really, _really_ keen on not dying, since all this started, something got to him, I think. Has a kind of phobia about it, some kind of survivalist shit. If he even got the idea that something would kill him, he'd take care of it first. Honestly, I'd considered killing the guy myself, if I wasn't too sure if he'd get _me_ first. Friends close, enemies closer, right?"

Johnny nodded tiredly, and Oscar shuffled uncomfortably on his feet, "I'm...I'm just sorry..." he repeated.

Jonathan paused, and then really looked at the guy, at the bandage on his arm, before a tired, semi-relaxed smile drifted onto his face, "We're cool, man." he said simply.

Oscar stared, then nodded, and shuffled off, leaving Johnny to let the smile go and continue packing...

. . .

Next is Ellie, while she's helping Johnny choose more girl-related stuff for Mavis.

"So Miss, she's not really a 'she', huh?" the girl asks bluntly, making him pause.

"U-um..." he starts, looking down at her, "Honestly, I'm not sure. I think of...her, It, I don't know, as 'Faceless'. I just don't see a face when I look at 'It'." She hums, frowning, and now he's curious, "What do _you_ see?" he asks, but only gets a shrug.

"I guess I just saw what I expected to," Ellie answers simply, "Can Mi—... Can _It _be...hurt?"

He tries to think about it.

It could choke Johnny, It could hold a baby, but did that mean It could be touched?

"I don't know," he answered honestly, getting kind of uneasy about where this line of questions is going, "It felt real enough I guess."

". . . You know what It did to her. What It did to my sister." Ellie went on. She wasn't asking.

Jonathan stops packing, not looking at the girl, feeling something settle heavy in his gut, almost like a punch, but slow and swelling.

She takes in his silence, and he hears the bitterness in her next words, the underlying anger and pain.

"S-so...what? Could you have _done _something?" she asks shakily, watches his shoulders tense, his head droop.

"Like," she laughed hollowly, "Like, oh, I don't know 'Hey, you have a crazy nightmare monster bitch in tow might wanna watch out for it'?! Could've said _something?!_"

"I don't _know!_" he shouted, whirling onto the girl, teeth bared in a despairing grimace, "I _didn't _know..." he went on, quickly downed in the face of her pain, "I didn't know. It...It said It would hurt the baby, It was hurting him, I didn't know that It would... I'm," he gave up, not knowing how to fix this, not knowing what else he could've done, so many 'what if's', so many bad endings, "I'm _sorry_..."

Ellie stares at him, eyes wide and searching his face for he-doesn't-know-what, before she turns and leaves, hand viciously wiping at her face, leaving Johnny alone with his guilt. Jonathan watches, swallowing, before turning back to packing, just keep packing...

. . .

Avril comes to him later, after what counted as dinner. He's letting Johnny pick some food and things to pack. The old man is clearly tired.

"You don't have to do this, you know," the man says, while Johnny helps him sort some of the non-perishables, "We'll always have the room."

They both hear the weariness in the guy's voice though, he's tired, and doesn't sound so certain now, and honestly Johnny doesn't blame him.

"Thanks," Johnny says, and he means it, he really does, "But we can't. We need to keep moving."

They had to get back to the hotel, especially now, now that they're out of... It'd just be worse for everybody if they stayed...

Avril nods, understanding, they both sharing expressions of weariness.

"Wh-when it was good," Jonathan went on, slightly nervous, "It...I won't lie, your place is awesome, you guys are awesome, but we just can't..."

It feels like they're running away, it feels like they're abandoning this family. Johnny jumps slightly when a wrinkly, wiry hand gently claps his shoulder. "You're fine, kid," Avril assured him quietly, "You two stay a little while longer. It's hard to start a journey on low sleep. Stay enough to get a good rest, get a meal. Just know that...I can't, I _don't_ blame you for _any _of this. Sometimes stuff happens that we don't understand or...can't easily accept. Best we can do is cherish what we do have...and 'keep rolling'."

Jonathan looks at him, then agrees to staying another while, enough to sleep, staring at the soup can that rests heavily in his hands.

"When all this is over," Johnny says aloud, "We'll come back and find you, okay?"

Avril gives his shoulder another gentle shake, nodding, saying "Door's always open, Johnny." before they go on to wrap things up for the night.

. . .

It's midmorning, and they're resting, dozing, preparing themselves for a nocturnal journey.

Dark cloth covers the windows and the cracks between the door and its frame, blocking out the sunlight and muffling sound. Mavis comes over after he's laid down, gently shoving at him so that he rolls over, so they can share the cramped space on the cot.

". . . Ellie's mad at me." she says softly after she settles in, her voice having a slight rasp to it.

Even after her throat had healed, leaving no scars on the skin, Mavis's voice, or something inside her throat, really didn't heal, worn, ravaged from trauma and smoke inhalation. She'd have to cough sometimes, it would hurt to talk too much, or sing, not saying that she couldn't do either, but from then on it would always be kind of a strain, her voice would always have a slightly husky quality to it from then on.

"I'm sorry." he murmurs, but she burrows into him, his back is against the wall that this cot is up against, Mavis shakes her head.

"We're fine," she told him, "She's mad, b-but we're fine, we're...cool. I'm gonna miss her."

"We'll see 'em again." Jonathan tells her, rubbing the back of her head, the side of her face, thumb tracing her cheek, feeling the warmth of it in the dark, feeling the thing that marred its smoothness. Everything else healed relatively okay, but that cut to her face had been the most...enthusiastic, bringing up a surge of cold anger in Johnny. A fine, wedge-shaped scar was crossing down her face, from just under her eye—_way too close to her eye_—to the ridge of her jawbone. It wasn't...ugly, not really, but the thought of what caused it was the cause for slight revulsion, the pain of a bad memory for her, a harsh sentiment for him. He absently ran his thumb down it, feeling her shiver, feeling the tears that had tracked down the slight indentation it left, trickling down it like the fuller of a blade.

"We'll see them," he went on, holding her while she quietly settled, "We'll...we'll invite them to the hotel, get Drac to give them a season pass. You'll get to have sleepovers with Ellie, and Ellie? Heh, the monsters are never gonna know what hit them, right?"

Mavis nods tiredly, she laughs a little, and she feels him relax.

It's not too hard to fall asleep when they're both so tired...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

_Johnny's onstage, playing for a bigger crowd than he'd ever dreamed._

_The crowd is huge and roaring, the lights are crazy and harsh, everything's vicious and vibrant, rivalling the riots of Slipknot concerts. The bass is thudding in the air and under his feet and in his ears and through his brain, the guitar feels solid and sweet under his hands, a heavy riff on its strings makes it buzz in his grip and blare out into the crowd, and the crowd roars for more._

_Johnny sees Mavis standing out like a beacon in the crowd, dancing. Even when she's far away he sees the shape of her, the shine of the light on her hair, the curve of her body while she dances. He plays more, making the crowd roar again, but he's really playing for her, and heck if he's gonna stop now._

_The song starts up, Johnny's the main guitarist, the singer's just a little to his side and in front, and the singer is Faceless. But...what, Faceless is a GUY again?_

_Couldn't It make up Its freaking mind? And what's It doing in Johnny's gig, anyway?_

_But Johnny keeps playing, he can't stop, and these chords are familiar, but slightly off, and he wonders if Mavis notices, but she's still dancing._

_"Hey, little sister, what have you done?" Faceless croons into the mic._

_"Hey, little sister, who's the only one?_

_Hey, little sister, who's your one human?_

_Hey, little sister, what's the thing you want?_

_Hey, little sister, got one...!"_

_Johnny's fingertips are raw from where he tries to stop, but the notes keep going and the song keeps growing._

_"It's a nice day for an...Armageddon!" Faceless goes on to the approving scream of the crowd, and Johnny thinks it's too loud._

_"It's a nice day for a...red wedding!"_

_The build-up's going too fast, Johnny wants to leave the stage now, he wants out. Can't Mavis hear what's going on?_

_He looks for her again, and then he sees something wrong. She's not...she's not dancing, not really._

_Those movements...Mavis isn't dancing, she's struggling, fighting among the crowd._

_"It's a nice day for an...ARMAGEDDO-O-O-ON!"_

_At Faceless's wild, smiling scream into the microphone, Johnny's moving, leaping into the crowd, guitar still in his hands, the music still plays even if he's not._

_He's moving through the crowd, shoving frantically at the surging bodies and hands, they're starting to tear at him, at his clothes, at his flesh. A sort of light's on Mavis, something he can follow, but the crowd's in the way. __Why is everything in his way?_

_"Hey, little sister, what will you do?_

_Hey, little sister, what is he to you?_

_I've played nice for so long (so long)_

_I've played nice for so long (so long)_

_I've let this go for so long_

_And it's a nice day for an...Armageddon..."_

_Faceless's voice is almost smooth, seductive as the guitar begins to weigh a bit heavier in Johnny's grip. Johnny looks down and sees it's turned into a battleaxe, and feels the hands try to drag him down into the crowd and away from Mavis... The solution here is obvious._

_"It's a nice day for a...**red wedding**..."_

_The crowd that had been so heavy, so smothering, fall under the blade like air, barely any give, and with every swing—every swing in time to the beat of that bass in his brain, of those drum beats—the axe grows lighter, and the arterial spray glistens in the lights, coats his clothes and skin, its color almost unidentifiable in the color of the lights, which are all turning red anyway. He's able to move much quicker through the crowd now, much quicker to Mavis, it's so freaking obvious so freaking **easy**..._

_"It's a nice day for an ARMAGEDDO-O-O-ON!"_

_He makes it to her, sees more clearly what's happening. The crowd is tearing at her, ripping at her clothes and hair, leaving bruises around her neck and cuts all over her body. But Mavis is fighting back with claws and teeth, parting skin from muscle and flesh from bone, joint from joint and blood from veins, her pale, pretty skin painted with red like war paint, and Johnny knows he has to match, but that's okay, he's made it to her. But he can't stop swinging the axe in his hands, can't stop moving forward, and to his horror he realizes he's heading right to her. She sees him, and any relief he has is quickly dashed when he can't recognize her eyes. Her mouth is a gaping maw of twisted, railroad spike teeth, her eyes are round glowing lamps in her skull, a jagged gash running down the side of her face, showing tendon and bone and the grinding of sharpened molars, and she roars at him._

_"There is nothin' fair in this world,_

_There is nothin' safe in this world,_

_And there's nothin' sure in this world,_

_And there's nothin' pure in this world,_

_Looked for a worthy thing in this world:_

_Armageddon..."_

_Where cutting through the crowd felt like air, he feels it when the blade slams into and cuts into her body. His arms are jarred when the swing meets bone, feeling it scrape and snap under the force of the blow, he feels the heat of the blood that splatters from her, but she's still roaring, even when she's near cut in half, to the point where her innards are spilling out around the blade and through broken ribs and torn flesh in their messy coils. She's catching at the axe handle to claw her way to him, teeth snapping near his neck, and he bares it for her, the apology dying on his lips when her bite tears out his throat, tearing into the flesh, the veins, the trachea, the esophagus, before closing around the vertebrae in a death lock..._

_"Come on,_

_It's a nice day for a red wedding..._

_It's a nice day for an Armageddon..."_

. . .

_The crowd is all gone, and the lights are out except for a simple spotlight on them, showing all the red they made. Johnny lays there with his throat gone, somehow still breathing even while he bled out, wet gasps gargle through what's left; he feels the once-comforting weight of Mavis's body on his, except some of it's disturbingly displaced. She was still breathing, too._

_He hears Faceless walk up to them, his—**Its** voice is almost soothing._

_"Oh, Johnny... Do you really think that just because I let you go, it means that I set you free?"_

_He senses It kneel next to them, sees It brush the hair away from Mavis's face. Her face is normal now, simple, almost sweet, innocently, gently contorted in pain._

_"You two are just so cute..." It sighs, and then Johnny hears a slight 'thunk' and the sloshing of something set next to his head._

_"Consider this an early wedding present," It decides, briefly patting the side of Johnny's face, "You can't say I never do anything for you. Good luck, Johnny."_

_It leaves, and the light goes out, and Johnny can only lay there, feeling Mavis slowly bleed out onto him as her gasps grow lighter, and lighter, and..._

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

He wakes up, choking on the bile that rose in the back of his throat. The smell of blood is real, the sound of her breathing is real, the weight of her body is...!

Jonathan quickly breathes out, assessing. She's just breathing into his ear, that's all. The sound of it quieting was simply her turning her head.

He only feels half of her because her lower half had shifted up onto the wall, making her kind of lean down on him, a weird shift of her gravity.

The smell, the wetness...? Huh. He and Mavis both had nosebleeds. Ugh.

He sits up, making a face at the mucus-y stickiness, still had ashes up his airways. He turns, and then he freezes.

In the dim light he can pick out, on the floor near the head of his cot, a shiny new Blood Beaters carton, a full quart, sitting there as if he'd put it there...

A sticky note on it simply says 'Good luck, Johnny'...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

**A Brief Note:** _I'm ba~ack... All rights to the owners and creators of the original song, of course. (Billy Idol's 'White Wedding')_


	25. Listen Well

They are quietly seen off that evening, Ellie and Mavis making amends, and during the 'goodbye's Elliot takes Johnny aside. The younger man looks up at the older one, who—when Johnny thinks about it—isn't really too much older than Johnny himself, but stress and strife had aged this man by what seemed like a decade. Elliot opens his mouth, then closes it, seeming to try to choose his words.

". . . Keep your girl safe," Elliot finally said simply, and held some things out to him, "And if you...if you ever run into that _thing _again, well..."

Johnny saw what he was being given, eyes widening for a moment, before nodding gravely.

"Yeah."

And that is how Jonathan now had a few firearm magazines in his pockets and a holster on his belt, slightly hidden under his parka. The semi-automatic sheathed in it felt like an alien weight at his hip, having the sense of somehow being something heavier. After a while of wearing it Johnny wouldn't notice the weight, not too much. He'd always thought guns were pretty cool, awesome things. He'd been to firing ranges at fairs and schools and things but... He really does want to call this kind of thing cool. But now, thinking of them as things to actually be _used-_used...

He'd try it later, but not to fire it, not yet. He'd test the weight of it in his hands, feel that slight, strange solidity through the plastic-feeling stuff, the way the barrel kind of wavered in his two-handed hold, aiming, levelling it at some vague point on the horizon, remembering Elliot's brief instruction—_the_ _movies always get it wrong: in line with your elbow, back it with your body, dominant hand **high** on the grip, here, like that, helps stop recoil. Use your support hand to fill in around the handle where the dominant one can't wrap around, align your thumbs...yeah, makes a stable shot, **never** shoot one-handed if you want to actually hit anything, at least distance-wise. Up close? Almost anything goes..._

Something inside of him wanted to lower it, and something else inside of him wanted to fire it, to pull this trigger his finger rested on just to see what would happen, but he knew what would happen, but somehow he still wants to see it... He thinks about it, but he doesn't fire. Would be pretty stupid to just waste these bullets. Anyway, Johnny wasn't so sure how cool he thought guns were, now...

He shifts a bit, wincing as the backpack strap caught a bit on his bad shoulder. That's right... His shoulder... It was honestly kind of creepy, how that went down. Discoloured with bruises and slightly lumpy with calcification, the harsh gouging in the meat of it was already healed and scarred over, like a levelled-up healing factor. But apparently this healing factor didn't last long, and only took care of big things. He and Avril, they'd...gotten a look at the thing on Johnny's chest after taking care of his shoulder.

It looked kind of like a birthmark when they saw it, like a port-wine stain, in the shape of a faint, faint handprint low on his sternum. It really was almost like someone had dipped their hand into a purple-red wine and pressed it on his chest, except the stain was a bit _under _the skin, like a tattoo... Johnny hoped his mom wouldn't skin him for it, if she ever found out... Poking at it didn't do anything, and Avril even tried jabbing Johnny with a few needles after explaining how he thought the protection thing 'worked', but nothing happened. This _was_ evidently the protection spell though.

Jonathan ran through his memory, remembered getting Blood Beaters from that creepy lady, before everything had blown up... Her name had been...Baba, right?

He remembered how she'd shoved his chest, and that had been the only time they'd been in any physical contact, hadn't it? Huh.

His shoulder gives another sharp twinge, and Mavis notices him trying to hide his wince.

Mavis watched him smile, though it looked a little tight at the corners. She gave him a smile back, let him keep his peace.

She looked ahead, down this asphalt road, watching the buildings slowly, slowly go by under the cloudy nighttime, silence accented only by the scuff of their shoes and the gentle shift and jingle of their backpacks. Mavis thought about it, then decided to break the silence.

"Do you know," she spoke up, careful with her voice, "Why there are so many more humans than vampires, Johnny?"

Out of the corner of her eye she sees him tilt his head in thought, his pace slightly flagging.

"Huh," he muttered, blinking, "I hadn't really thought about that..."

Mavis nods, smiling a little, and went on, "It's something I didn't really think about either," she murmured, "Just another..._stupid_ lesson in a bunch of other things Dad told me to be scared about, but being _out_ here, now, really puts it in perspective, y'know..." She clears her throat a little, making a face at the congestion in her throat as it turns into a slight coughing, "K_huh!_ . . . Ugh... Gonna—_khm, yuck_—gonna be a little monologue-y, just going to say that right now." she confesses.

"All here, all ears." Johnny says, smiling at her reassuringly while they kept walking.

She nodded again, and took a moment to think. "It's like..." she started out, "It's kind of like that 'carnivore-herbivore' way of life thing. You get big, big herds of plant-eaters and a few packs or loners of meat-eaters, right?"

"Right."

"Well, it's the same with vampires and humans, honestly, that 'carnivore-herbivore' thing," she goes on. "Humans outnumber vampires, that's simply how it's balanced. That's how it _should _be, even if...even if Dad didn't like it. Doesn't. Are you getting why that is?"

There are a few more quiet moments while Johnny thinks, while Mavis starts to regret bringing it up. This is a pretty heavy subject.

"It's kinda cool, like those National Geographic shows," she hears him say, and it surprises her when he seems to mean it. National Geo-what? "Humans are..." he says carefully, "Humans are vampires' source of food, right? Naturally? Like lions and antelopes." Mavis nods uncomfortably, but his genuine interest makes her a bit more at ease with it, "Except you guys eat fake antelope," Jonathan went on, "I mean—_blood_, fake blood." That made her laugh. He adds, "Well, y'know, usually." and then looks like he immediately regrets it as Mavis's laughter dies off a little.

". . . Yeah," Mavis admits quietly, "'Unhealthy' as Dad keeps harping it, humans are still...you know. I mean, we can drink animal blood and stuff, and eat bugs and things, but when it comes down to it, near blood, Blood Beaters, anything close enough to the real thing is, well, yada-ya, you know the drill..."

"Yeah." Jonathan says, almost subdued, thinking about that quart sloshing around in the bottom of his backpack...

"A-anyway, it's balanced," she goes on to repeat, "Only a certain number of us are around the world, and...if Dad's anyone to judge, we don't get out much, don't interact much, which makes sense. Getting too many too close together would mean stepping on some toes. I mean, you've seen how dramatic my _dad_ is." she chuckled.

"Yeah, it's like those family reunions," Jonathan commented, "Great to visit, _not_ so cool to live with, not saying family things aren't awesome, though. Man, you've had New Year's parties, right?" She's about to answer when he quickly backtracks, "Woah, woah, starting to sidetrack." he laughed sheepishly, "Anyway, vampire stuff?"

"Yes, vampire stuff," she chuckled, "Frankly, vampires are dependent on humans or in this case, the substitutes, but vampires are scarce enough and live long enough that this is an okay existence, not much demand for food. But that also means the whole continuation of the species thing can get a bit...crazy at times, when it counts, because we're so few." her expression softened into a smile, "My dad was real lucky to meet my mom, that they _zinged_, that they loved like they did..."

". . . Yeah..." Johnny agreed softly, recalling the tale of the Lady Lubov...

"Her being gone was...kind of a big thing," Mavis admitted more quietly.

"If more vampires were gone, and I was old enough, well, I probably would've had to have gotten married..."

"Would've—_what?!" _was the young man's quick yelp.

"Okay, okay, okay, maybe not, but it would've still been a big deal," she was quick assure him, trying not to laugh at his stunned/reproachful expression, "It's just..." She swept her hair behind her ear nervously, adjusting her backpack, "Marriage and-and kids and...stuff like that's a big thing for vampires, because there're so few. If it came down to it, when a vampire needs to marry, but there's no other vampire to rationally marry, that's where the...the turning thing comes in..."

There's an uncomfortable silence between them, and Mavis continues, "Turning is..._sacred_," she mumbles, "It's not like Ellie told me what she thought it was, once. You know, where, we just find people and change them or something. Whoever gets turned is going to have a whole new existence, and whoever turns them, a whole new element in life, and it has to be kept in balance... A lot of trust, a lot of patience..."

"And love?" Jonathan asks quietly.

Mavis nods, "Above all things." she murmurs, confirming.

Then she feels her fangs begin to itch, her face, the scar stung a little in memory, "It's a _sacred _thing..." was her low snarl, tinged with fear, "It's...it's... Marcus, he...he just thought it was a—what? S-some sort of _tool _or something...? No, with that...with that _bastard_, it would've gone s-so wrong..."

Johnny suddenly hugs her, making her jerk to a stop.

She pauses, then returns it, their hands wedging into the spaces between their backs and their backpacks in the middle of the empty asphalt road.

". . . Someone like him would upset the balance of things, I think, the way he was talking," she continued to say quietly, but more calmly, comforted by his body's warmth, leaning her head on his shoulder, "Too many humans turning, no true vampire to teach them—_I_ couldn't, I'm not old enough to... So many vampires, so 'young', in such a tight space w-would..." she turned her head, feeling a certain special warmth in Johnny's neck, how hadn't she noticed it before, "_Hunger_..." she breathed, feeling him shiver and seeing goosebumps rise on his skin. They couldn't see each other's faces, but she heard his breathing, he was slowing it, steadying it, purposefully relaxing in her embrace. She held her breath, suddenly nervous, feeling a cold sweat break out on her forehead, "Th-they'd be so hungry, and there'd be so many, that there'd be so little to e-eat," she went on shakily, almost thinking she could see the skin pulsing slightly in that place under his jaw, and wondered how it felt, and found herself automatically moving forward, thinking about kissing that small patch of skin, "They just wouldn't...be able...to stop..."

But Mavis does stop, just a hairbreadth from his pulse point. She freezes, sighs, an exhalation across his skin, and then kisses his cheek.

"It would've been very, very bad," she finished in a mumble against his cheek, "He..._scared_ me..."

Jonathan's paused, and for a moment she's worried, but then he turns, his mouth brushing gently across the scar, to rest at the corner of her mouth. Their eyes are partly closed, their bodies pressed together enough to feel the solidity of flesh even through the layers of thick clothing.

"It's okay," he whispers, but before Mavis can protest he kisses her, "You're okay," he elaborates into her mouth after a breath for air, "We're gonna be okay... Yeah?"

She looks at him straight, and then nods, smiling slightly, "Yeah."

Another kiss, brief and warm, and then they move on along the empty, asphalt road, while heavy-bellied clouds skudded the sky...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

It finds him huddling in one of the smaller houses in the suburbs, 'licking at his wounds' being a phrase that could almost be taken literally at this point. Thin poolings of bloody, murky water make the abandoned kitchen's linoleum slick and slimy. He reeks of smoke and gasoline, those smells overpowering the more..._organic_ scents... He looks at It with weary, barely controlled rage when It walks in on him, his face contorted beyond the swelling bruises and fire-dried blood. "_Told me it would work,_" Marcus snarled brokenly, physical trauma and a slightly changing mouth shape distorting his voice, his tongue absently ran over his aching teeth in memory. Her blood hadn't tasted 'good', no, but the _sensation_ had been almost sweet, "_It's not working..._"

"Not my fault," It replied bluntly, unperturbed, leaning against the counter, "You're the one who decided to start, ah, 'playing with your food'..."

A spewing of rasping, harsh profanities was the reply.

It waits patiently for him to run out of breath or brainpower, whichever happened first, quietly observing his condition.

He wasn't burned, no, but his skin was reddened with a higher sensitivity to sunlight, and It knew there was more going on underneath the skin. Changes in metabolism, in palate, in the chemical and genomic structure, in blood circulation, perhaps a slight increase in cell regeneration, but whatever was changing wasn't changing _completely_, expending energies and proteins in a constant fluxing between conversion or reversion; a hybridizing, bastardizing, torturous state of limbo that left this poor creature It saw before It wanting... Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on the opinion—this wasn't going to kill him, not quite.

He finally took a breath, then just kept breathing, the sound of his respiration harsh and haggard, sounding a bit watery in his chest.

"Did...did she make it out...?" the man finally asks roughly, making It blink, "Is she okay?"

". . . As much as can be expected, which is a _very_ good thing for all involved in this," It replies, tilting Its head, "But is this _sentiment _I'm hearing from you?"

That made the human laugh, a painful-sounding hacking. If he could indeed be considered human, still.

He slowly calms down to breathe again, looking at It more steadily, squinting, the cataracts in his eyes giving off a slight sheen, one of them is slightly healing.

"_. . . _You're a guy now." Marcus notices, forehead wrinkling.

"Yes." It felt at the stubble on Its face, as if remembering, "Or at least I take the appearance of one." It offers cryptically, shoving Its hands in Its pockets.

"When you were Miss, you...always kept smiling at me," Marcus went on, neither in confusion nor betrayal, just a simple observance, "Miss had kissed me once."

"Miss had liked you." It explains, slightly indulgent, a faint smile returning now.

"And I care about you, Marcus, really. But _Miss's_ face is no longer needed, not now. Now Miss is gone."

A shaking hand nervously picks at a scab, wiping away some of the pus that oozed up.

"What the hell _are_ you...?" Marcus growled, trying to rub the sting of the opened scab away, even as the skin tried to seal itself.

It thinks this over carefully.

"I am whatever I am needed to be, I am whatever one expects to see..." It answers for now. That's not quite the answer, but it's not wrong.

"A gender-bending backstabber?" he spat in bitter retort, faint redness spraying the floor in front of Its feet.

It looks down, blinking slowly, then just as slowly looks back up at Marcus, who froze.

Its smile spread, a smooth, stony grin, "If that is how you see me...?" It says softly, thinking it's time to remind this investment of Its..._generousness_...

Flesh began to fall from It, slipping from under peeling, putrid skin in chunks, lumps of greenish-gray meat. The flesh fell with rotten, soft _pafs _to the floor like overripe fruit, to reveal slimy, yellowed bones noisily writhing with maggots. A hoarse, animal groan suddenly grated from Marcus's ravaged throat as It arched over him, large and near-surrounding in the dim light, skeletal, stick-like, looming like a child's half-wake nightmare, rotting and reeking of decay and sulphurous copper, fingers spreading almost wantingly, curving like crude, rusty scythe blades.

"_I am whatever I am needed to be,_" It chittered, watching Its investment try to back into the wall, try to curl in on himself. How adorable, It thinks.

"_I am whatever one cannot stand to see._"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry..." Marcus mutters frantically.

One metallic talon gently begins gouging the paneling next to him, nearly to his neck.

"_Do you remember, Marcus-s-s?_" It cooed, clicking, "_The dead, the deaths, the dying, how open wounds were filled with muck and maggots while the breathers begged for mercy, be it life or death? Do you remember them begging **you**, Marcus-s-s, as their hands-s-s reached for you? Marky, Marky, why were you le~eaving them?_"

"They were already dead!" he screamed in terrified defiance, angrily lashing out with his knife, making It rear back with an amused chirring.

"They were already—they just weren't—!"

"_Do you want to join them, little Marcus-s-s?_" It asked, turning as he tried to escape It, only for him to slip in the essences that pooled on the floor, landing hard on his shoulder and side, nearly cracking his head against the tile, but still he tried to scrabble away, breath hissing between bared, clenched teeth and wide, wide eyes, "_Do you want to know how they fe~elt without e~eyes or limbs or tongues or mi~inds with bullets and bla~ades and bombs and bugs in their bodi~ies? No, no of course you don't, of course you do~on't... Do you remember, little Marcus-s-s?_"

Talons caught the end of a pants leg, dragging the human back, the effort aided by the slickened floor. The human flipped over in his struggles and was faced with the rotting visage of _Death_ as It grinned at him, "N-no, _NO...NNNHN—...!_" his scream is choked off by his own throat, and he can only...

"Wasn't I merciful? When we met, wasn't I kind?" It continued softly, suddenly it's a human's hand gently grabbing Marcus's ankle, whole and healthy. There is no rotten flesh, no bones, no maggots, no mess beyond what Marcus had made in the small kitchen. "Didn't I listen to you, and teach you how to _use_ your fears? Didn't I give you what you wanted, supply you with what you needed?" It continued, almost sadly, watching the young man curl into a shaking ball under Its now seemingly gentle touch, "Wasn't I generous, Marcus?"

"_Yes, yes, yes, you were, y-you were, I'm—..._"

"Hush," It grunted gently, idly grooming dried blood and singed hairs and dead skin from his scalp.

"It's alright... As long as you understand... You do understand, right, Marcus?"

The shaking slowly stops, the breathing slowly evens out, and the human slowly uncurls, staring at the wall as It sits and waits.

". . . Yes," he says flatly, eyes dark and dull once more, "I...yes. I understand."

". . . _Good boy.._."

Marcus sits up with a groan, feeling the bruising throb down his side, trying to heal.

"What...did I do wrong? What do I need to do?" he asks, slightly unsteadily.

It smiles at him once more. This was such a good investment.

"You need to find her, hunt her," It says simply, not needing to elaborate who she was, "It will take time. But she's the one you started this with, so, it stands that she is the only one who can finish it. There is a..._ritual_ of sorts, to vampirism, that between you two is only half-complete. Mutual giving. Mutual taking. In your case the ritual is slightly reversed but...not incompleteable. You freely gave to and took of her, now _she_ needs to willingly take from and give to you..."

Marcus growled a little at that, before starting to clean his knife.

"It's _alright_," It assured him, standing up and brushing off Its jeans, "I can give you what you need. As I always do..."

It smiles again as It watches Its investment drink in Its words, feeling the other bits of his story begin to fall into place.

His role began to take form, take shape, become sharpened...

True, this boy was no Van Helsing, but It's learned well enough by now that a story can't really be told the same way twice...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

**A Brief Note:** _As always, any who are confused as to the origin of Johnny's spell may find it the Second Strike chapter._ _At this posting, the story will be 25 chapters and over 71k words. And we're not even done yet, eh? Your thoughts are always welcome. Thank you._


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